Closer To God
by Midnight Pomegranate
Summary: After Rogue pushed Mystique off the cliff, Mystique has been left in limbo. In order to get her body back, she has get Rogue to fall in love. Cupid, watch out, Mystique's back in town and determined to reclaim her body at any cost. ROMY
1. Uninvited

**Hello everyone. I just wanted to start off with the standard disclaimer. If you recognize anything in here, I don't own it. **

**Now, just to explain, I got the inspiration for this story from a combination of two things. White Orchid, a very lovely author, has written a marvelous story, "The Rogue, the Rat, the Demon, and the Cat", which I recommend you all read! Usually I don't write humorous stories, but she made me want to. So if this story seems similar to hers, it's because hers inspired mine, although don't worry, mine will be different from hers. Also, the second thing that inspired me was the Joan Jett song, "Do You Wanna Touch Me?", which I will definitely feature periodically throughout this story. So, there, my inspirations. Oh, and the title comes from my favorite Nine Inch Nails song, "Closer", which will also be featured in this story. Actually, a lot of songs will be featured in this story, as I love using songs in connection with stories… **

**A small summary: After Mystique was shoved off the cliff by Rogue, she became a spirit. The only way for her to reclaim her body is to do one selfless task, and the particular task is to get together a pair that we all know and love. Only, it's not going to be nearly as easy as she thinks it will be, especially when villains and well-meaning mutants make things difficult. **

**WARNING: This is going to contain adult themes, such as sex, obscene language, and violence, so please, if you can't handle that, just be warned that it's in here.**

**Okay, then, enjoy!

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**Closer To God**

**Chapter One**

"If you want to be free of this place, you'll listen to me, Mystique."

The voice was exasperated, as if these words had been spoken more than once. And, in fact, they had. She had been told this phrase so many times she thought her eyes would cross.

Shooting a glare in the general direction of the speaker, Mystique snapped, "Of course I want to be free of this place, but I refuse to do it on your terms."

After her not-so-darling adopted daughter, Rogue, had flung her petrified body off the cliff, Mystique had been stuck in a sort of limbo, unable to see anything but fog and her own body. Even the man that spoke to her was invisible, which made it all the more frustrating when he taunted her with a chance at escaping this terrible purgatory. She definitely wanted freedom, but at the price he asked.

"It's the only way, Mystique," the voice said in a long-suffering tone. "If you don't do this, you'll be stuck here forever."

"But why should I help her? As I recall, she's the one who sent me here," Mystique snarled, repeating the same things she had told him in the same argument they had been having for quite a while now.

"Exactly, which is why you must help her. To do something selfless will free you. And, if you recall, you would not have been in a position to have been pushed off a cliff if you hadn't used and betrayed her," the voice reprimanded her sharply.

Mystique huffed, but she didn't say anything. She couldn't, and the bastard damn well knew that. When she had been free of this place she had already felt guilty over using her daughter, although that guilt hadn't been strong enough then to prevent her from doing it. Now she wished she had listened to that guilt, for it had gotten her into a world full of trouble. Mystique loved Rogue, really she did, had always loved her, but she had loved her powers more. Now that she was learning how selfish and foolish she had been in regards to her daughter, Mystique felt the uncomfortable pangs of regret and treated them in the only way she knew how: by lashing out.

"How would I help her, anyway? It's not like she can touch the boy without killing him," Mystique said, finally relenting a little to discuss the method to her freedom.

There was a moment's silence, as if the voice she had spent all this time talking to was surprised by her sudden willingness to hear him out, "Are you actually willing to help your daughter, Mystique?"

"I'm thinking about it."

"Well, you better not just be thinking about it," the voice said crossly. "This is very serious business, helping soul mates find each other, and if you screw this up, you'll think this existence is Heaven compared to what you will be going to."

Mystique grunted in surprise, "How would failing to help my daughter unite with her soul mate send me to Hell? Last time I checked, that wasn't a sin."

"Because, knowing you, Mystique, they would not come together because you purposely kept them apart," the voice responded, accurately, damn him.

"They can't even touch!" Mystique shouted. "How are they even supposed to get together if they can't touch? Besides, he would just use her and then dump her! Why should I trust my baby girl to a ladies man like that?"

The voice laughed, grating on Mystique's nerves, "Have a little faith, Mystique. Lord knows the two of them need it, especially with what they will be facing soon."

"And that would be what?" Mystique asked, feeling piqued.

"Something you'll learn of very soon. Now, I assume you are familiar with the demons known as succubi?"

Mystique frowned, crossing her non existent arms over her non existent chest, "Succubi don't exist; they're just legends. And besides, I don't see how they would help, anyway."

The voice laughed again, and Mystique contemplated flipping him off, "Hardly. Here is the essence of a succubus; it will get you started on your mission."

A small, glass vial, glowing a dim red, appeared before Mystique, "And what am I supposed to do with it? What exactly does it do?"

She heard the smile in the man's voice, "It will get you started on your mission. The rest is left to you, including just what you do with it."

"Hey! That doesn't explain anything to me! I'm gonna need some help if I'm going to do this properly!" Mystique huffed, but it was too late. An odd sensation was tingling through her, and the fog was slowly receding. "Hey, wait, wait, wait! I need more information!"

"Would you stop bitching, Mystique, and get on with it?"

Those were the last words she heard from the voice before a bright light blinded Mystique momentarily. Hissing, Mystique lifted her hand to protect her eyes, leaving it there until it dimmed. When it dimmed, Mystique lowered her hand, looking around cautiously. She stood outside of Xavier's Institute in Bayville, New York, and, judging by the moon, it had to have been around midnight. Everything was silent and peaceful, indicating that the Wolverine had gotten the kiddies into bed for the night. Mystique looked at her arms, her body, and realized that they were see through, indicating her status as a mere apparition.

"What is this? I thought the deal was that if I helped Rogue get together with Gambit, I could have my body back," Mystique snarled, tempted to fling the little red vial she held in her hands across the fence.

"They aren't together yet, are they?"

Mystique glared at the sky, "Why the hell are you still bothering me? If you aren't going to help, go away!"

She didn't resist the impulse this time when the voice laughed to flip the bird, even though it wasn't as menacing in her non-corporeal body. When she knew she was completely alone, Mystique made her way toward the Institute, still grumbling beneath her breath at being demoted to mere matchmaker in order to get her body back. And to getting her daughter with none other than Gambit, a man whose zipper went down for any woman he saw! To put it plainly, Mystique was not pleased, but if this meant getting her body back, she would. And when she got her body back, she'd apologize to her daughter for having to force her to be with such a feckless man as Gambit.

Her body tense and cautious, Mystique walked through the wall, realizing that this must be how Rogue's roommate, Shadowkat, felt every time she phased through something. This nothingness, this lack of having a physical body, was spooky. Mystique just hoped that it went far enough along to mean that she was a full spirit, invisible to the eye. Of course, she'd have to be careful around Xavier, as she didn't think the telepath would take kindly to a spirit-Mystique messing around with one of his beloved students, whether or not that beloved student just happened to be her daughter notwithstanding.

Mystique almost had a heart attack when she came face to face with Wolverine. Like usual, he prowled the halls, always wary for uninvited visitors, just like Mystique. She was grateful that she didn't have to breathe, because she'd be holding it right now if she did. Fortunately, however, he looked right through her, confirming her belief that she was completely invisible. That would help in the long run, as she didn't think that Rogue would be too willing in letting the mother that she pushed off a cliff help her into a relationship. Of course, Mystique was still curious how the powers-that-be imagined Rogue would be having a relationship, since the powers that Mystique had so often abused sort of put a damper on any of the physical aspect of a relationship.

Smirking at being able to one-up her long time rival and long ago lover (a fact that would earn instant death to any who found out), Mystique strolled along the halls of the Institute, looking for her daughter's room. She had once known where it was, but she had forgotten, and, well, the mansion was pretty big. Here and there she would pause to look into a room, but no luck so far. However, she did find one person she was very curious to investigate. Deciding it wouldn't hurt to take a slight detour, Mystique walked into the room, the darkness not bothering her at all.

It was a single room, intended for one man, and obviously decorated by a man, most likely the student who occupied. Cards were strewn about everywhere, and here and there random articles of clothing littered the floor. Mystique arched an eyebrow as she realized that most of the clothing was either leather or jeans.

"Typical," she snorted, still looking around the room.

The desk was littered with half full liquor bottles, testimony to the occupant's twenty-one year old status. Here and there cologne bottles mingled with the liquor, and a standard clock radio flashed the time in big red numbers: 3:00 AM. Mystique smiled; the official witching hour, how quaint. There were a few posters on the wall, mainly of bands that Mystique didn't recognize and Harley Davidson motor cycles.

"The boy has a one track mind, doesn't he?" Mystique murmured, walking around the room and going over to the desk. Idly she wondered if she could open the drawer, and was pleased when she realized that, with enough concentration, she could. The desk drawer contained random school items, such as paper and pens, but Mystique also saw a pack of cigarettes and a box of condoms.

Turning to the boy – no, the man – slumbering on the bed, Mystique glared, "You better not be intending to use these on my baby."

She walked over to where he slept, sprawled on the bed, naked from the waist up, "Well, I can see what the girls see in you. Broad shoulders, rough, devil-may-care sort of looks. But if you hurt my daughter, you'll be in big trouble, mister."

Actually, she didn't see how he wouldn't end up hurting her daughter. Gambit was a very handsome man, with shaggy auburn hair and the face of a fallen angel; women literally flung themselves at his feet. Added to that his Creole charm and his demon eyes, and no woman stood a chance, especially someone as vulnerable as Rogue. Mystique did have to admit that if the two of them got together, they'd make a charming couple, and he wouldn't let Rogue's strong personality walk all over him, but that didn't mean she was happy about it.

A slight smile curved his lips, making Mystique suspicious, "What are you dreaming about, young man?"

On an impulse, Mystique brushed her fingers over his brow, and gasped when they sunk in slightly. She certainly wasn't expecting what she saw! There was her baby and Gambit, doing unspeakable things to each other! Gasping again and staggering back, Mystique gaped in shock at Gambit, "You dirty, dirty boy! Don't think those things about my daughter!"

Quivering in indignant outrage, Mystique glared at him. Then, she looked to her left. Then to her right.

"Well, maybe just once more…" Her fingers dipped, disappeared. "GAMBIT!!"

Stomping out of Gambit's room and fuming at the bit, Mystique was tempted to sic a lynch mob after that boy. Really, wasn't he a little old to be having wet dreams? Grumbling beneath her breath at Gambit's dreams over her baby girl, Mystique sought out Rogue's room, finding it quickly. She entered just as silently as she had entered Gambit's room, although this room was far different from the other mutant's.

It looked like someone with split personalities had decided to take up residence in the room. On one side, the wall was decorated with posters of boy bands and movies like "Wedding Crashers" and "The Holiday". The bed was pink and frilly, every inch a girly-girl's bed, complete with fluffy pillows and stuffed animals. That whole side of the room and the occupant living there were the essence of perky Kitty Pryde, Rogue's roommate. Conversely, on the other side of the room, darkness reigned. The posters on this side were for bands like Godsmack and Evanescence, and movies like "The Rocky Horror Picture Show" and "Army of Darkness". On the bedside table a well read copy of _The Monk_ sat haphazardly on _The Manchurian Candidate_, _The Scarlet Pimpernel_, and the DVD box set of the HBO series "Rome". And then the bed, of course, was done in moody shades of black and emerald, the complete antithesis to the other side of the room.

Mystique shook her head at the sight of such a mismatched room. Even the girls in their pajamas looked so disparate from each other. Kitty obviously wore a pink nightshirt and matching shorts, her long brown hair curling around her innocent looking face. Rogue, on the other hand, was sprawled on top of the covers in a simple black tank top and black butt shorts. She wondered how the two of them ever got along, but if they had lived together for so long and hadn't killed the other yet, Mystique realized that somehow they had to have become friends.

As she looked at her sleeping daughter, Mystique once again felt that pang of regret go through her. Her daughter had just turned seventeen in early April, almost six months ago, and was now starting her senior year in high school. If she had been a good mother, she would have been there for Rogue instead of being interested in her only for her powers. As she slept, Rogue had her i-Pod nano clutched in her gloved fist, and Mystique noticed that the song currently playing was Three Day's Grace's "Just Like You", which saddened her even more. She had heard the song before, knew what it meant, and even though Rogue was asleep and didn't realize she was listening to it, Mystique knew that she wouldn't have the song on her i-Pod without a reason.

"What are you dreaming of, darling?" Mystique asked, awkwardly brushing her hand over Rogue's forehead and letting her fingers sink in there. "Oh my god!"

No wonder the powers-that-be wanted Rogue and Gambit to be together; the pair of them were a couple of perverts! Mystique gasped at the risqué dream Rogue was having of the demon eyed mutant, entranced by the almost surreal quality to it, the longing that was evident behind every movement the two made. It made sense, Mystique vaguely acknowledged that Rogue would have dirty dreams; only in her dreams could she have physical touch. Although she had to say that Rogue was far dirtier in her imagination than young Gambit had been, surprisingly.

Removing her hand and feeling like a dirty voyeur for peeking in on her daughter's very explicit, very naughty dreams with Gambit (something that really surprised her, as Mystique had always been certain of Rogue's dislike for the New Orleans born mutant), Mystique backed away slowly from the bed. She looked down at the vial in her hand, wondering what she was supposed to do with it. Every time it got near Rogue's body, the red pulsed and grew stronger, fading back to a dull light only when Mystique pulled it away. Biting her lip and looking back and forth between the vial and Rogue, she pondered for a moment just exactly what it was that she was supposed to do.

"Do I open it and have her drink it? Do I have her drink all of it? Do I rub it on her body?" When Mystique asked if Rogue should drink it, the vial pulsed brightly in her hands, startling Mystique a bit. "Well, I think I have my answer. But how much?"

She pulled out the intricately designed stopper, looking down uncertainly into the oddly swirling contents of the bottle, "Oh well, I guess all of it…"

Drawing closer to Rogue, Mystique was glad that her daughter's lips were partially opened. It just made things easier for her. Placing the edge of the bottle next to her lips, Mystique delicately tipped it. Slowly, an almost gaseous liquid oozed out of the bottle, pouring down Rogue's throat. Obviously Rogue's subconscious realized that some foreign substance was being forced down her throat, for she whimpered and twisted a little as the stuff went down, but Mystique managed to keep her quite enough to get the entire amount of the red liquid down her throat. When she was finished, Mystique leaned back up and placed the stopper back in the vial, stepping back from the bed.

Frowning, Mystique wondered what was supposed to happen next. Rogue was lying on the bed, her chest rising and falling in deep sleep as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. For a moment, Mystique suffered a bout of fear. What if this essence of succubi did something to Rogue, something bad? But no, she was here to help Rogue, and they wouldn't give her something to give Rogue that would harm her. That would sort of defeat the purpose of aiding her.

Suddenly, a fine sheen of sweat erupted over Rogue's pale skin, illuminated by the moonlight that poured in through the open window. Mystique watched in growing horror as Rogue started to pant, quietly at first, her chest rising and falling quicker now as her legs shifted restlessly on the covers. Was she… was this making her have a… Oh dear lord. Rogue, still apparently asleep, bit on her lower lip, moaning softly in what could only be pleasure, leaning her head back on her pillow and faintly arching her chest. Mystique slapped a hand over her mouth as she watched her daughter grab her covers in tight fists, her hips rolling in a motion that no mother should ever see her daughter's hips do.

Little panting whimpers spilled regularly from Rogue's lips now as her head tossed back and forth on her pillow, one of her hands coming up to tug impatiently at her shirt. The other hand slipped beneath her shorts and between her legs, and Mystique's eye twitched. Rogue's breath came faster and faster as her hips rocked faster and faster, her noises somehow not waking her roommate sleeping in the next bed. And yet through all of this, Rogue was still obviously asleep, too, which shocked Mystique. Finally, after what seemed an inordinately long time to Mystique, forced to suffer the humiliation of seeing her daughter… well, seeing her daughter doing something better left to behind closed doors, Rogue cried out, her back arching all the way off the bed as shudders ran down the entire length of her.

She collapsed back on her bed, still completely asleep, huffing quietly, her expression blissful. Her skin, so usually pale, now glistened with a healthy, warm glow, far too inviting and seductive for a mere seventeen year old, in Mystique's opinion. It was as if, with the orgasm her daughter had just had, a subtle transformation had taken place, and Mystique was afraid of what it meant.

"Well, we'll just have to see what this does to her and how I'm supposed to proceed in the morning, right?"

Only, Mystique wasn't quite so sure she wanted to know how this was going to turn out.

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**Okay, everyone, I hope you enjoyed that! Tell me what you think, and expect much exasperation and surprise in the next chapter!**

**Love all! Midnight Pomegranate **


	2. Do You Wanna Touch Her?

**Ta-da! Here is my next chapter! I hope this was speedy enough. I had it finished a day or two after I posted my first chapter, but I was so busy with taking finals (blah, college sucks sometimes) that I just didn't have the time to post this. But now that I do actually have some time on my hands, I thought I would put this up! **

**Thank you for all the lovely reviews everybody! I'm so excited that my story is liked. I was afraid that nobody would like the concept all that much. And yes, it's going to get very, very awkward for poor Mystique later on in the story. Oh, and just to let the interested reader know, I hadn't intended on starting with humor, I had intended with starting with something darker. But I go to school in Virginia, and with the tragedy at V-Tech so close to my campus (don't worry, I don't go to V-Tech), I thought something lighter would be appropriate. I'll eventually get around to posting the other darker story, but I wanted to try my hand at humor, first. Oh, and FYI, I don't like writing in accents, at all. Unless you hear in perfect pitch like Mark Twain and can pick up on every little aspect of dialect, it just seems foolish to me to try to write in accents. Foolish and difficult to read. So, other than the occasional French declaration and Remy's habit of talking in the third person, I'm going to avoid accents. Sorry if you like reading Rogue's Southern drawl instead of just imagining it as you go along. **

**Oh, and every song, every name brand item that I might mention in here… yeah, none of it belongs to me. If I mention anything you recognize, it isn't mine. **

**Okay, taking a POLL: Who would you rather see Mystique torment more: Scott or Wolverine? Let me know!**

**Enjoy this chapter!

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**Closer To God**

**Chapter Two**

The beeping clock died a quick and painful death. Who knew that when thrown against a wall at a speed of at least thirty miles per hour plastic would shatter? Mystique watched in amusement as Rogue sat up, her hair curling wildly around her face, her emerald eyes dazed and confused as they blinked away the sleep. She had stayed with Rogue all night. Apparently being a spirit meant that sleep wasn't necessary, so Mystique just sat by her daughter, occasionally peaking in on her dreams. Just for purposes of getting her together with Gambit, of course.

After that rather eventful reaction to the essence of succubi that Mystique had given her so early in the morning, Rogue had slept rather fitfully, tossing and turning on the bed, every once in a while moaning softly. Now, at eight o'clock in the morning, she looked completely refreshed, of all things. Mystique was surprised that Rogue didn't have any circles beneath her eyes; after such an… interesting night, Mystique would have thought that her sleep would not have been satisfying.

However, the glow that Mystique had noticed the previous night was still there, transforming her skin in a beautiful, warm peach that practically glistened. Her hair seemed glossier, fuller, falling in soft waves around Rogue's shoulders, the white stripes acting as bangs glittering brightly against her skin. And, if Mystique didn't know any better, she'd have said that Rogue's figure was slightly altered, as well, her bust just a bit bigger and her curves a little more pronounced. Mystique gulped anxiously, once again afraid of what sort of affect the essence would have on her daughter. Or, more precisely, what affect it would have on the boys that surrounded her daughter.

Rogue smiled, then, her lips curling into a seductive little half grin that was totally un-Rogue, "My god, what an amazing dream!"

She stretched luxuriously, sexually, making Mystique gasp in horror and step back with her arms raised. Oh dear lord, what had she done to her baby girl? Kitty, just now waking up on the other side of the room, was eyeing her roommate with the same surprise that Mystique felt.

"Um, like, Rogue, are you okay?" Kitty asked. "You're moving even before I am."

Suddenly, Kitty's alarm turned on, playing music instead of noise.

"_We've been here too long… Tryin' to get along… Pretendin' that you're oh so shy… I'm a natural ma'am… Doin' all I can… My temperature is runnin' high_"

Both Kitty and Mystique's jaws dropped as Rogue started to rock her shoulders and sing along with Joan Jett as she got out of bed. Swinging her hips with every, "Do you wanna touch (Yeah!)", Rogue waltzed over to the vanity in the center of the room that she shared with Kitty. Neither Kitty or Mystique could move as they watched Rogue dance freely to the music, shaking her hips and running her hands up and through her hair as she sang at the top of her lungs. Mystique's eye started to twitch again as Rogue danced around, smiling like she was out to seduce the world.

Rogue felt good. No, scratch that. She felt better than good. She felt amazing! Purring and running her hands slowly from the top of her shirt to the top of her knees, Rogue shut her eyes and allowed her head to sway back and forth to the music. It seemed fitting, actually, as the only thought on her mind at the moment was where she could find the first willing body and drag said body into a darkened interior. And, for some odd reason, the willing body that she was having a penchant for seemed to be attached to a pair of red-on-black eyes in her imagination. Standing in front of the mirror, Rogue opened her eyes and tilted her head, looking at herself questioningly.

Oh yes, she wanted Gambit. That was true. She always had, ever since he had come to the Institute a little over six months ago. But, of course, her powers sort of got in the way, and she was more than a little turned off by the knowledge of his past as a ladies man, even if he firmly denied interest in any woman but her now. Smiling faintly, as if she knew a secret that others did not, Rogue lifted a hand to her lips and her other hand to the top of her shirt, just staring at herself in the mirror.

Mystique, meanwhile, was wondering what had gotten into her daughter's mind and how badly this was going to go. Because the little inner voice that Mystique usually ignored was now telling her that she may have possibly given her daughter more of the essence than she really should have, although in her defense, she didn't know that it was going to affect her like this. Well, she didn't know what it was going to do, at all. It wasn't as if she was given tons of information. So if anything cataclysmic did happen because of it, there was no way she could be blamed. Mystique didn't even know what the hell the essence really was, no matter what the voice had told her.

Yeah, it wouldn't be her fault. It wouldn't…

Nelly Furtado's "Maneater" swiftly followed on the heels of Joan Jett, and Rogue grinned, swinging her hips again and snapping her fingers. Kitty was paralyzed on her bed, watching in stunned horror as her usually dark and depressive friend danced around the room like she was some sort of stripper. In a tank top and butt shorts, no less! Rogue had yet to start covering herself up, a fact that had not gotten past Kitty. Humming with the music, Rogue twirled and dipped, laughing in delight as she lifted her hands to her hair and shook her butt in a decidedly un-Rogue maneuver.

"Rogue…?" Kitty said cautiously, coming to the edge of her bed. "Are you okay, really okay?"

Rogue stopped dancing and turned to Kitty with a bright smile, "Sure I am, Kitty. Hey, can I borrow one of your shirts?"

Now Kitty knew that Rogue had to be delirious and Mystique was positive that she had given Rogue too much. Praying beneath her breath to whatever gods would listen that her daughter would regain some sort of sense before she left the room, Mystique watched as Rogue bounced over to Kitty's side of their shared closet.

"Um… uh… Rogue…" Kitty stuttered, tempted to check her temperature. "Are you sick?"

Picking up a white silk button down shirt with puffy short sleeves and a matching wide black belt, Rogue laughed and waved it at Kitty, "Of course not. I'm just feeling happy today. Do you mind if I borrow this?"

Kitty silently shook her head, looking completely befuddled. Rogue hummed and peeled off her tank top, not caring that she was completely shirtless now in front of Kitty, who made a gasping sound before hiding her eyes. Mystique whimpered; oh dear lord, the essence had not only made her have an orgasm in her sleep but now it had made her an exhibitionist! Rogue just ignored Kitty and put on her bra, probably the only white bra she owned, and Mystique noticed when she frowned.

Looking down at her boobs, Rogue wondered why her bra was a little tight. She had never been remarkably stacked, like Jean, but she wasn't as flat as Kitty was, although Kitty managed to carry that off well. However, she was sure that this bra had fit last time she had worn it. And, as a Victoria's Secret bra, it had fit remarkably well, since all Victoria's Secret bras were marvelously made. Now, however, it was a little bit tight, and her cleavage strained a bit. Humming curiously, Rogue realized that her skin, too, wasn't as pale as it usually was; a result from lack of sun due to constant clothing coverage. She wouldn't say that she had a tan, but now her skin at least looked healthy.

Turning to Kitty and standing with her hands on her hips, wearing only her white bra and her black shorts, Rogue asked, "Do I look any different today?"

Kitty, who had been in the process of discreetly getting dressed, paused and gave Rogue an uneasy look, "Well, yeah… But you're also behaving sort of oddly, too."

Rogue just humphed and put on the shirt. She arched an eyebrow when she realized that it was a little tight in the chest region, as well. She had always been able to wear Kitty's shirts (though she'd never really wanted to) without much trouble in the chest department, as she wasn't that much bigger than Kitty. But now there was a tightness there that hadn't been there before. Rogue tapped her fingers on the closet door as she pulled out a pair of skinny black jeans. She usually wore them with her other darker clothing, but she thought they'd be charming with her borrowed shirt.

Tossing her shorts aside, Rogue shimmied into the pants and looked at herself in the mirror, her eyebrow arching again. Was she imagining things, or were her hips a little bit curvier, too? Mystique watched nervously from a corner, hoping that Rogue wouldn't catch on. But apparently Rogue didn't mind or thought she was just hallucinating, because she just shrugged and went back to getting ready for the day.

In the end, Rogue ended up leaving the three top buttons unbuttoned, showing an unbelievable amount of cleavage, especially for Rogue. Black ball room gloves and black slippers completed the outfit, changing her from goth to forties prep. Singing along with Fergie's "Glamorous" (and making Kitty almost cry, she was so worried), Rogue put on her make up. Only, instead of the heavy, dark make up she always wore, she applied lightly, focusing only on her eyes with a heavy layer of kohl and mascara to make the emeralds of her eyes stand out and a light sheen of gloss on her lips to make them look shiny and kissable. And then, shocker of all shocker's, instead of leaving her hair down, as she usually did, Rogue pulled the shoulder length tresses into a high ponytail, arranging her bangs in a fashionable side sweep that charmingly framed her face.

Kitty was gaping like a fish while Mystique cheered Rogue on. She thought all that dark clothing was simply dreadful, and was glad to see her try something new.

"I always knew you were a beautiful girl, Rogue, but dayam, girl," Mystique said, smiling proudly at her daughter. "You make Angelina Jolie look like a circus clown."

Feeling puffed with pride over her daughter's transformation, her fear temporarily gone that she had given Rogue too much of the essence, Mystique followed Rogue out of the room. Her daughter had her back pack thrown over her shoulder and was now whistling yet another tune, this time the Pussy Cat Doll's "Buttons", a song that Mystique would have thought Rogue had never heard before. Every single person milling about in the hallway stopped when they saw Rogue leave her room, not only whistling, but wearing preppy clothing. Had Apocalypse made her lose her mind? Of course, Mystique noted with satisfaction that along with the shock was open desire for her daughter, walking along the hallway with swinging hips and a flirtatious smile.

"Rogue? Are you okay?"

Rogue stopped walking and turned to Scott Summers, who stood beside Rogue's brother and Mystique's other child, Kurt. Scott's mouth was hanging open as his head dipped up and down, obviously assessing her current outfit and attitude. Kurt, the poor dear, just stared at his sister like she had gone mad, his tail flicking back and forth anxiously.

"Ah, my handsome boy, what have you been thinking about?" Mystique asked as she walked up to Kurt. Allowing her fingers to dip into his forehead (she was getting the hang of this reading minds thing; no wonder Xavier loved to do it so much), Mystique arched an eyebrow at the thoughts she found there. He was shocked yet pleased that his sister was finally breaking out of her shell, still upset that Rogue had pushed Mystique off the cliff, and holding quite a torch for Rogue's roommate, Kitty.

"Good lord, have I raised my children to have such dirty brains?" Mystique snapped in annoyance as she removed her hands, frowning at Kurt and the fantasies that he had over the little shadow walker. At least he was more of a gentleman than the boy that Rogue was supposed to get with; then again, his fantasies were tamer than Rogue's, too.

"Morning, Scott," Rogue said, smiling brightly up at him and waggling her gloved fingers. "Morning, Kurt."

"What are you wearing?" Kurt asked, rubbing his head as if he didn't know quite what to make of his sister standing there in clothing usually seen only on her roommate.

Rogue twirled slowly, giggling like a little girl, "What, you don't like it, Kurt?"

"It's different, I'll tell you that," Kurt said, glaring at Scott, whose eyes had invariably drifted to first Rogue's rack and then her ass as presented to him.

"And you, Scott?" Rogue asked, pressing her body up against his, their chests meshing. Her voice was husky and soft, her eyes, so usually hard and distant, now warm and inviting.

Even Mystique could see Scott's eyes widen through his rose-tinted glasses as he stammered an unintelligible response, making Rogue laugh in delight, "Don't worry, sugar, I'm not going to touch you… Yet."

Scott babbled incoherently while Mystique ranted, "No no no no no no no no no no no. Not him, you idiot girl!"

Rogue's grin turned cattish, and she leaned into him again, forcing him (doubtlessly not against his own will) to lean down to her, as well. Her lips hovered an inch away from his, and Mystique almost panicked when she saw a faint vermilion fog seeping from Rogue's mouth into Scott's.

"Unless you want me to, sugar…" Rogue murmured, her arms wrapped around Scott's neck and her eyes hooded. Kurt and every other young mutant in the hall way watched them with similar expressions of horror as Scott whimpered helplessly, his hands coming around Rogue's slim waist of their own accord.

"Rogue, you idiot, you're supposed to be kissing Gambit, not Cyclops!" Mystique shouted, even though she knew that Rogue couldn't hear her.

Then, the worst happened. Or, well, what Mystique thought would be the worst. Scott's lips were firmly encased by Rogue's, and the two started necking like the randy teenagers they were. Everyone flinched and cried out, expecting Rogue's mutation to manifest itself, but… nothing happened. They just stood there, making out in the hallway rapidly filling with astonished mutants, Jean and Kitty included. Mystique was tugging at her hair and shrieking in frustration. This was a hamper in her plans to get her body back!

Jean's mouth hung open in hurt and, dare Mystique say, anger? The redhead was glaring at Rogue like she wanted to strangle her, and Kitty looked like she was going to gag on something. Mystique didn't blame her; both Scott and Jean had sticks shoved so far up their asses, it was a wonder that Rogue wasn't tasting shit while she made out with him. But she obviously didn't, for they had been going at it for a good minute without an obvious break in sight.

"Rogue, pull away from that boy this instant!" Mystique said firmly, putting all her force behind it. "You are supposed to be making out with Gambit, you shameless hussy." She wasn't expecting it to work, but in a panicked attempt, she said the words, hoping that they would somehow penetrate Rogue's thick skull.

Imagine her surprise, then, when Rogue stepped back instantly, her eyes slightly dazed and dreamy. Almost like they were when she had been under Mesmero's mind control, actually… Mystique's eyebrows rose up as she looked at her daughter, standing in front of a very confused and disheveled Scott, looking as if nothing had happened.

Curious to see how far she could go with this, Mystique said in the same tone, "Rogue, say goodbye to the nice boy and walk away right now."

Smiling vaguely, Rogue tilted her head and said, "Good bye, Scott." Then she walked past him as if in a dream, a goofy little grin on her face. The instant she turned the corner, the hall instantly erupted into chatter as everyone talked about Rogue and her macking with Scott and her powers not rendering him unconscious.

Mystique sighed and rubbed her forehead, "Teenagers and their hormones. She'll be the death of me yet. Oh dear lord, what has she done now?"

Hurrying off to the very distinct sound of "Oomph!", Mystique rushed around the corner to see Rogue plastered against Piotr, sucking his face off just as she had done to Scott. Mystique nearly started crying, "No no no no no! Did you hear nothing of what I said?"

Growling beneath her breath and stalking to the two of them, Mystique was now positive that she had given Rogue far too much of the succubus essence. Placing her hands on her hips and tapping her foot impatiently on the ground, Mystique wondered what she would do with the two of them. Somehow, the essence must have either suppressed or given Rogue control of her powers. And God help every male in this Institute, because it looked like Rogue was prepared to make up for time lost in the whole kissing department. Mystique only hoped that that was the only department she was looking to make up on…

Suddenly, Mystique saw her salvation in the form of a certain demon eyed mutant walking down the hallway. Smiling, Mystique clapped her hands in delight, "Yes, I can get the two of them kissing and then they'll admit their love for each other and I'll have my body back!"

Remy, clad only in a pair of loose white pajama pants that hung very low on his hips and nothing else (a fact not unnoticed by the girls that had peeked around the corner to see Rogue and Piotr making out), had very obviously just gotten out of the shower. When he saw Rogue and Piotr, however, he stopped walking and his jaw dropped about a foot, his eyes rounding as he watched the girl he had held a _tendre _for making out with a man he considered his close friend. Rogue and Piotr didn't even notice that he was on the same planet as them.

Sidling over to the boy, Mystique wondered if her voice could work on him, too, "Well, don't just stand there gaping like a moron. Go do something!"

His head shook sharply, as if a fly had just buzzed by his ears, and then Remy's eyes narrowed and he stalked over to them, "Hey, _homme_, what do you think you're doing?"

They didn't even hear him, which just made Remy mad. He grabbed Piotr, the larger of the two, by the shoulder and spun him around, "What are you doin' to the _belle fille_?"

Piotr just stared stupidly at Remy, still under Rogue's spell. Rogue, on the other hand, turned to Remy with hearts in her eyes, "Oh, Remy, my hero!"

Remy looked so startled by Rogue's breathy, adoring declaration that he just blinked owlishly at her, making Mystique laugh. She stopped laughing, however, when Rogue flung herself into Remy's arms and planted a kiss that way outdid the previous two she had just bestowed on Scott and Piotr.

Remy had no idea what to do! The girl that he had wanted to touch for so long was not only touching him, but giving him the best kiss he had ever had! His head was telling him that something was wrong, that she wasn't in her right mind and he needed to stop her. His other smaller head, however, was shouting in jubilation and egging him on, whispering all sorts of naughty things into his ear. Rogue's full, soft lips against his were making his legs weak, and her lush curves were pressing up against _all_ the right places. So, as always, junior won in this debate, and Remy gave in with a small sigh, wrapping his arms around her waist and giving as good as he got.

"No, stupid, you're supposed to stop her and ask what's wrong!" Mystique shouted at him, sending her hand through his head as she tried to whack him. She shrieked when Rogue upped the ante and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, the force of her weight sending the two of them into the wall and making Remy's pants shift precariously low.

"Rogue! I did not raise you for such public displays of affection!" Mystique ranted. "Oh, good lord, Gambit, DON'T PUT YOUR HAND THERE! I do NOT want to be a grandmother before I even get the chance to be a good mother!" She turned to Piotr, who stood watching with hazed eyes, his brain still obviously scrambled from whatever it was that Mystique had put into Rogue, "You, metal head! Go get the professor! Now! And the Wolverine! And a bucket of ice!"

Mystique slapped a hand to her face and dragged it down, keeping one eye on the increasingly steamy Rogue and Remy, "Oi vey, I'm starting to feel like a yenta! ROGUE, THAT IS NOT A PROPER PLACE FOR YOUR MOUTH!"

Several tense minutes later (and after several glares in the direction of the younger mutants, none of whom had tried to intervene in the make out session of her daughter), Professor Xavier and Logan came into view, followed by Piotr, who looked confused as to why he was carrying a bucket of ice. Wolverine looked furious at seeing his beloved Stripes locking lips with the mutant he dubbed Gumbo, and Professor Xavier looked faintly concerned over everything.

"Rogue? Remy?" the Professor asked, rolling his chair near to them.

His words didn't penetrate, however, and they continued to make out, little grunts and groans the only sounds heard from the two of them. Mystique frowned and stormed over to Piotr, "Well, what are you waiting for? Give it to 'em!"

Blinking, Piotr walked over and dumped the entire bucket of ice onto the couple, and then scratched his head, looking like a little miserable puppy. Remy yelped and pulled away, his mood effectively lost, but succubus-drunk Rogue was still determined to get into his pants, obviously. With a little disgusted growl, Wolverine grabbed her by the waist and physically pried her off Remy, though she fought and protested the entire way.

"Stop misbehaving, Stripes," Logan said fiercely, holding her tightly despite her protests.

"We weren't misbehaving, Logan. That comes later!"

Laughter erupted from the students as Rogue smiled charmingly up at the man holding her. Mystique was almost afraid that Rogue would try to go for him, too, but just as she didn't try to kiss Kurt, she didn't try to kiss Logan, either, although she was starting to give the Professor very hot looks.

"That just blew Remy's mind," Remy muttered, his eyes glued to Rogue in fascination.

"That's not what I was going to bl- Ooph!" Rogue's words were cut off when Logan slapped a hand irritably over her mouth, ostensibly to protect the ears of the younger mutants present but most likely because he really didn't want to hear what was about to come out of Rogue's lips. Then again, Mystique didn't want to hear, either, although she had already seen what her daughter intended to do to young Gambit in her dreams.

The professor watched Rogue in increasing concern, and Mystique was afraid to see his eyes occasionally drift over to where Mystique hovered, "Rogue, my dear, are you alright? You've been kissing three boys, and your powers haven't kicked in…?"

She smiled perkily at him, still giving Remy the "eye", and said, "Oh no, Professor, I think I'm cured."

"Cured?" The Professor sighed and said, "Logan, will you please bring Rogue down to my office. I'd recommend that you don't allow her to walk freely; there's no telling what she'd do."

"Sure thing, Chuck," Logan said, nodding as he held the wiggling Rogue.

"Aw, come on, Logan! You never let me have any fun!" Rogue said as he carried her away after the professor, Mystique following the three of them and Gambit trailing them all.

"That's not the sort of fun a seventeen year old should be having, Stripes."

"You're just tense because you need to get laid."

"ROGUE!!!!"

She rolled her eyes as all three men (and the unheard Mystique) yelled her name in unison, "What? It's true. Really, Logan, how long has it been since you've had a good roll in the hay?"

Logan sputtered indignantly, then, unable and unwilling to answer her question, heaved her over his shoulder. He groaned as she continued to chatter on about why he needed to get laid, who should do it, what positions he should try (she'd bet that he'd make an excellent stallion), what sort of condoms he should use. On and on. Mystique was laughing uproariously as Logan's face got redder and redder while he mumbled underneath his breath about "horny teenagers" and their "damned annoying hormones".

When they got into the office, Mystique noticed that Hank McCoy and Ororo Munroe were already present, obviously telepathically summoned by the professor. They each looked at Logan with arched brows as he marched in with a babbling Rogue flung over his shoulder, and their eyebrows got even higher when Remy unceremoniously walked in behind the group in a pair of pajama bottoms that didn't do much to hide his current physical state.

"Professor, what in the world is going on? And Remy, what are you doing in here?" Ororo asked, bringing the professor's attention to Remy.

He turned to the young mutant, "I think this has something to do with him, so he might as well stay."

Remy leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his broad chest (which Mystique noted was flawless and reluctantly admitted that if her daughter had to be with a scoundrel, at least the scoundrel looked like some sort of sex god). He frowned, looking serious for once in his life, "Of course it involves Remy. But this is more about the _petite_. Why is she acting so strange?"

Logan placed Rogue on her feet. Bad mistake. The instant she had her balance, she attacked Remy, her lips making a beeline for his as she tackled him to the ground. Amidst many yelps of surprise and growls (on Rogue's part; Mystique never knew that her daughter was such an animal!), Logan managed to extricate Rogue from Remy's body once more.

"Oh dear oh dear oh dear," Mystique chanted, really worried. What if this was permanent and she would jump the bones of any random man she saw? Thus far most of her most… extreme efforts had seemed to be focused on Remy, but that could change at any moment.

Forcefully making Rogue sit down on a couch, Logan said sternly, "Now, will you behave or will I have to sit on you?"

Rogue smiled prettily up at him, all Southern charm and innocence, "I'll be good."

Poor Remy had hid behind the desk. It wasn't like he didn't like the attention from Rogue; on the contrary, all he had ever wanted was the two of them behind closed doors sans clothing. Of course, the keys words there were _behind closed doors_. And since her behavior was more than a little frightening, Remy wasn't exactly sure what to do with her. Mystique wasn't either, so she just stood behind Remy, wringing her hands nervously.

Sitting demurely on the couch, Rogue smiled at all of them as if they were talking about nothing more intense than the weather or food. Apparently physical distance lessened her sex drive, for she didn't look like she was about to jump anybody. Of course, they all eyed her warily, keeping that distance a safe measure.

Rolling to a position where he could look into her flushed face and dilated eyes, the professor asked, "Now, Rogue, please tell me what's affected this sudden change. You are Rogue, right?"

She frowned, the picture of affronted beauty, "Of course I am, Professor! What a thing to say…"

Logan sniffed suddenly, his eyes narrowing on her as he neared her. He was the only one so far that she hadn't shot a look of lust, so he figured he was the safest around her, "What's that I smell, Stripes? You wearing a new perfume?"

Rogue lifted her wrist to her nose and sniffed delicately, "No, nothing new. Just my Love Spell from Victoria's Secret." She turned to Remy and beamed widely at him, "Do you like it, darling?"

Remy practically tripped over his tongue to convince her that it smelled wonderful. Just the thought of her perfume made his mouth water, and Mystique was glad that she hadn't been made to give him something. If the succubus essence did this to Rogue, she was loathe to think of what something akin to it would have made Remy do. Her poor baby girl probably wouldn't be able to walk for a week! Although, by the way things were going, it looked like those were the plans that Rogue had for Remy, anyway…

The professor frowned and placed his chin in his hands, "I do definitely sense a change in you, Rogue, but I'm not sure what it is, or what has happened. Is there anything you can tell us?"

Biting her lower lip, Rogue forced herself to concentrate on the professor, "I'm sorry, Professor, I can't really help you. All I know is that when I woke up this morning, I was just feeling so… so…"

"Horny," Mystique said dryly.

"…horny," Rogue finished, nodding as if she had heard Mystique and liked her choice of words. "And, well, I don't seem to have a lot of impulse control."

"That's for sure," Remy growled, thinking of seeing her in the arms of Piotr and also thinking that he and his Russian friend were going to have a little meeting in the Danger Room at some point.

The professor shot him a censuring look, and then continued, "Well, Rogue, do you remember anything from last night?"

She tilted her head, placing a finger on her chin and tapping it as she thought, "Now that you mention, I had the hottest dream I've ever had. Otherwise, nothing out of the ordinary."

"Oh really? Tell us about it," Remy urged, grinning at her. She smiled back at him, and Remy was struck by the beauty of it. This was the first time that she had ever actually smiled at him. Oh sure, she might have grinned at a joke he made or smiled at someone near him, but never _at_ him, and never had he seen a smile of such beauty. It made his knees weak.

Mystique glared at him, and swatted at his head again, "Down, boy."

The professor jolted in his chair and his head whipped around to where Mystique stood, his eyes narrowing in her direction. Mystique squeaked and stood perfectly still, her yellow eyes wide. Surely the professor couldn't sense her? But then again, he was a powerful telepath, the most powerful on the earth, and if anybody could sense her, then it would be him. After standing paralyzed in fear for what seemed eternity as the professor searched her position, she finally was able to sag in relief when he shook his head and turned away, back to Rogue.

"Is that all, my dear?"

She smiled and shrugged her shoulders, "That's all, sir."

Logan looked pleadingly at the professor, "We can't let her wander free like this, Chuck! She'll do something she'll end up regretting!"

Rogue pouted, "If no child comes from it, how can I regret making a guy scream my name?"

Mystique snickered; she was sure that Logan wanted to wrap his hands around Rogue's throat and squeeze, but he managed not to, settling instead on a furious glare. Rogue, however, had directed her comment at Remy, and the poor boy was all but drooling, staring at Rogue as if she were a goddess descended to earth. Which, Mystique suspected, wasn't far off; a demoness was a celestial being, and according to legend, no man could resist a succubus. Only, how could Mystique get it to where the essence was more realistic so that Rogue didn't jump every man between the ages of sixteen and sixty-two?

She got an idea just as Rogue started unbuttoning her shirt (while saying in a breathless, Southern belle voice, "Goodness, isn't it hot in here?"). Remy would be useless, since all three of his eyes were glued to Rogue's increasingly bared cleavage as she did her own little strip tease in the middle of Xavier's office. Poor Ororo looked utterly confused, and Hank had his eyes turned respectively away; he was a doctor, he had no idea how to deal with teenage girls outside of the sickroom. Logan, however, could be of use.

Stomping over to Logan, Mystique jammed her hands into his forehead, hoping that that would help add extra authority to her words, "Logan, if you don't stop her right now, she's going to strip clean naked and she and Remy are going to fornicate on this couch like a couple of rabbits. Ask Xavier to look in her mind, see what's wrong. Maybe he can reduce some of the influence."

"Rogue, stop!" Logan said, jumping instantly to do Mystique's bidding, which made her purr like a cat in the creamery. He stilled her hands on her shirt, and, when it became evident that she wasn't going to stop without a fight, he quickly ripped off her gloves and used them to tie them behind her back.

Making a moue of her lips (and all but reducing Remy into a puddle of human flesh on the floor), Rogue said, "Ooh, kinky!"

Logan growled and shook his head at her, "Chuck, can't you take a look into her brain? See if there's something screwy going on in there?"

"Ooh, yes, please see if there's anything… screwy, in my mind!" Rogue said in delight, sliding off the couch and onto her knees in front of the professor, her shirt gaping open and presenting quite a picture to the general populace of the room. Remy actually groaned when he caught a good sight of her position, and she ran her tongue over her lips, making him whimper.

Mystique's eye twitched (something that seemed to happen frequently now…) as she muttered, "You and I are going to have a sit down, girl, and discuss proper, ladylike etiquette when I have my body back."

"Rogue, can you control your powers or have they been temporarily blocked?" the professor asked, easily keeping his eyes level with Rogue's. Hey, he wasn't a high level telepath for nothing.

She smiled, "I can control them. I can use them if I want to."

"And how do you know this?"

Giving Remy a saucy look, she said, "I used a bit of them to pull in some of Remy's memories, to see how he likes to… _fuck_ best."

"_Mon Dieu_," Remy moaned, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head.

"Professor, it's as if all her pheromones have been increased," McCoy said, watching Rogue reflectively. "It's as if she's been possessed by a…"

"Yes! Yes!" Mystique cried, cheering him on. "Say it, you furry bastard!"

"…a succubus, actually," McCoy finished.

Xavier arched an eyebrow at his friend, "A succubus, Hank? Really?"

McCoy shrugged his shoulders, "That's what it seems like to me. Otherwise, why would every man be attracted to her? Why would she be throwing herself at every man?"

"She hasn't tried that with me," Wolverine said. (Mystique rolled her eyes, "Idiot.")

"And she didn't throw herself at Kurt, that much I can get from her mind," Xavier said. "Kurt is her brother, which would explain that."

"Maybe she regards you as a father figure?" Ororo asked.

"She regards me as a father figure, as well, and she tried to seduce me with her looks," Xavier said, looking sternly at Wolverine. "You wouldn't happen to have had any relations with Mystique, have you, Logan? I've not looked into your mind out of respect, but it would be better if we knew now."

Mystique panicked, "Oh, no you don't. Not now. Rogue, go get Remy! Get him, girl, get him! Doesn't he look pretty and tempting and good enough to eat? That's it, girl."

Egging her on like a dog, Mystique watched as Rogue's eyes burned with lust as they turned to Remy, searing him with her look. He froze in place, his expression accurately interpreted as that of a deer in the head lights. With a little growl, Rogue broke free of her gloves and flung herself at Remy for a third time, leaping over the desk to send the two of them sprawling to the floor. That effectively distracted any conversation that Mystique did _not_ want to happen, and she smiled in satisfaction at her manipulations.

After they had managed to pry the two of them away from each other, not an easy feat, and Logan had secured Rogue to the chair with his own shirt ("Kinky!"), things were able to get back to normal. This time the professor banished Remy from the room and Remy, being the wise boy that he was, ran like the hounds of hell were after him.

"Now that he's gone, I think we can get a reasonable amount of work done," the professor said, placing his hands on either side of Rogue's head. She smiled cattishly at him and ran her tongue over her teeth, picturing things they could do together, knowing that he could see them in her mind and laughing when he blushed. "Rogue, will I have to render you unconscious, or will you please behave?"

"Humph, fine," Rogue pouted, sitting still for once. "I'll behave."

"Thank you."

Mystique watched anxiously as the two of them sat there silently for several minutes. Every once in a while, Rogue would cry out, not from pain, but from ecstasy, then she would quiet, her eyes becoming distant. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, the professor pulled away, sweat dripping from his forehead.

"Professor? Is everything alright?" Ororo asked, placing her hand on Rogue's shoulder. The girl had slumped over when Xavier had pulled away, panting slightly and trembling, as if she were on the verge of tears.

Xavier turned to Hank with an odd look on his face, "You know, Hank, I think you may have been right, perhaps. There was a foreign being within Rogue, a foreign essence that was controlling her actions and spurring on this lust. I wasn't able to get rid of it completely, but at least now I think she'll be more aware of what she is doing and less likely to jump the first man she sees."

Mystique clapped her hands together in delight and spun around a little, "Marvelous! That makes things so much easier and less complicated for me! Thank you, Xavier, you dear!"

Rogue looked up and around the room, her plush lower lip trembling as her eyes filled with tears. Obviously she was back to herself as she whispered brokenly, "Did I… did I really make out with Scott?"

"You made out with Scott?"

"And Piotr?" Rogue asked.

"And Piotr!?"

Rogue looked down at her lap, her face so red that Mystique thought it would catch on fire, and Mystique felt that damn emotion again. The one that started with _g_ and ended with _uilt_. She didn't like seeing her daughter look so miserable, as she so obviously was over her behavior, and this behavior was brought on by Mystique. But really, it wasn't Mystique's fault! She didn't know what would happen or how much to give Rogue! Really she didn't!

"Do you still feel like you need to, well, relieve your urges, Rogue?" the professor asked gently, smiling down at her.

She bit down on her lower lip, pondering his question for a moment, "I don't know, Professor. I still feel like I want to just find the nearest guy and take him into a closet or something, but now… well, now I think I have more control over myself."

The professor nodded, "Logan, you may untie her now. I don't think we'll have to worry about Rogue throwing herself at the first man she sees."

Rogue smiled gratefully as Logan untied her wrists and rubbed them tenderly before reaching to button her shirt again. She paused, however, looking at the white silk oddly, "What in the hell am I wearing?"

Mystique followed Rogue back up to her room, although it was a hard task, since Rogue ran so fast Mystique had to practically fly to keep up with her. Mystique didn't really blame her, though. She would be running, too, if she had to walk through a crowd that had just watched her make a complete ass of herself. While Mystique followed her, though, she pondered what she would do next. Obviously just the succubus essence wasn't going to be enough to get the two of them together, evidenced by the steadfast refusal of Rogue to even look at Remy as she ran past his door to get to hers. He called out to her, but she just ran faster, slamming her door with finality.

Sighing and leaning against the wall as she watched her daughter throw herself on her bed, sobbing, Mystique murmured, "Okay, plan two: I'll just have to be matchmaker. Surely it can't be too hard to get two people to fall in love?"

Remy knocked on the door, "_Cherie_? You okay?"

"Go to hell, Cajun!"

Mystique sighed, "Oh yeah, it can't be hard at all."

* * *

**Okay, I hope you guys liked it! The next chapter will feature a certain love god and a calamity with certain members of the X-Men of the male variety. Until then!**

**Love all! Midnight Pomegranate **


	3. Seduces Me

**Sorry that it took me so long to get this chapter out! After getting back home, I had very little time to get to work on it. First my parents demanded chores (the horror!) and then demanded that I get a job, so I did (at none other than my favorite place in the world, Bath and Body Works!). So, between the long hours and the cleaning of the room, writing has sort of taken a back seat. Also, I've been working on a novel and the illustrations for it, so that has sort of consumed my attentions, as well. **

**Anyway, thanks for the great reviews, guys! I love it! Makes me happy to know that people love my story! I hope this chapter is satisfying! **

**Oh, just as a side note, I wanted to mention that I'm going to name each chapter with a song that I think fits with the chapter, or a variation on it, like the previous chapter. So hopefully, if you've heard the song, you can already get a feel for the chapter. **

**Okay now, results of the first poll: I think I'll do them equally. There can be a lot of torture that Mystique can have in store for Wolverine while Rogue can certainly test the limits of Scott's endurance. And I think in this case I agree with Mercy P. Jones in this instance: whenever people try to torture Scott they always portray him with a stick in his ass. And, while I do think he is a little high and mighty, I think it would be interesting to come at him from a different angle. So, Mystique gets to torture Wolverine while Rogue gets to torture Scott. **

**Now, second poll: Obviously I want to put other couples in here, primarily a Kitty coupling. However, I'm pretty open to suggestions on who she should be with. As she's not my absolute favorite, I don't have an absolute favorite character for her to be with. So, what do you guys thinks? Piotr or Kurt? Or Lance or Pietro? I'd love to know, and I've left this chapter open for either of the first two.**

* * *

**Closer To God**

**Chapter Three**

Mystique watched nervously as Rogue just sat on her bed, staring off blankly into empty space. Rogue hadn't moved much since this morning's incident; she hadn't left her bed at all, actually, moving only to shift into either sitting or reclining positions. The professor had excused her from school and forbidden any of the students to disturb her, even Kitty, but Mystique had the sinking suspicion that even if somebody came in, Rogue wouldn't notice them. She was lost in her own little world, wrapped in misery over her own behavior. Rogue couldn't even manage more than a dirty hand gesture when young Gambit had the audacity to walk in.

Through the conversation the two of them had had (well, it was mostly Gambit trying to get Rogue to talk and Rogue pretending that he was nothing more than a fly on the wall), Mystique had watched on in worry. Had she irreparably damaged the relationship between the two by giving Rogue the essence? She saw the lust simmering in Rogue's eyes when Gambit walked in, but Rogue had better control now and refused to even accept that the boy was alive and on the same planet, let alone an object of desire. Mystique was afraid that perhaps she had ruined things forever and that she would never get her body back, but why would the powers-that-be give her the essence if this was going to be the result? Just to screw with Mystique and enforce her belief that there was a hell and she was living in it?

And how in the hell was she ever going to play matchmaker if her daughter refused to admit the existence of her match? Mystique was perhaps the least romantic person on this earth, excluding her former boss, Magneto. She had no idea how she was going to get the two of them to fall in love when she had never been in love herself, but she knew it wasn't going to be easy with Rogue hiding in her room all the time.

Rogue's headphones were planted firmly on her head, the "Queen of the Damned" soundtrack blasting through so loudly Mystique wondered that her daughter hadn't already gone deaf. She had changed after she had finished crying into a tight green jersey-knit shirt and a pair of extra large, black sweatpants that were obviously made for men (but looked comfy nonetheless). Every once in a while Rogue would slide the long sleeve of her shirt over her eyes, as if she fought back the tears, but after her initial outburst, none had yet to fall again.

"What's going on with me?" Rogue asked faintly to empty space, her eyes glazed. "I don't understand."

Mystique huffed, deciding that she had had enough with Rogue keeping herself cooped up in her room all day. It was almost nine o'clock at night and she had yet to venture outside, even for food. Walking over to her daughter, Mystique sat down on the bed next to Rogue, her incorporeal body leaving no impressions.

Putting all the sugary command in her voice that she could, Mystique said, "Rogue, you're hungry, aren't you? You want to go downstairs and get some food. Maybe a tuna sandwich or a peach. You don't want to stay like this _all_ day, do you?"

Rogue blinked once. Twice. Then she nodded, her white bangs sliding over her face. She had yet to take her hair down from the style she had put it in that morning, though some of it had already fallen loose, giving her a charmingly disheveled look. Mystique's minor matchmaking skills kicked in here.

Purring, she indicated the vanity table, "And maybe you'd like to put on some more perfume. Who knows who you'll meet when you go downstairs; you don't want to smell like sweat and tears, at least not yet."

Humming faintly, Rogue swung her legs over the edge of her bed and stood, stretching out her body. Padding on bare feet to her vanity, she picked up her perfume and squirted herself three times; once on the neck, and once on each wrist, just to be safe. Looking at herself in the mirror and nodding again, Rogue turned and left the room, hoping to avoid any and all signs of life on her way out.

"Stripes, you okay?"

Rogue stopped walking, turning around with a faint frown as Logan came trotting up behind her, "Yeah, I think so. I mean, I hope so… I, um, wanted to apologize for what I said to you this morning…"

Logan shook his head, looking down at Rogue in concern, "You weren't yourself, kid. I knew that. I'm just glad you're doing better. Do you have any idea what might've gotten in to you?"

Mystique scowled at him, "I did, you great lumbering hulk. Now leave my daughter alone and go lick yourself."

She didn't realize that she had put into any command into her voice, but suddenly Logan blinked owlishly at Rogue and said, "I, ah, need to go li- go work on my bike. Catch you later, Stripes."

While Mystique laughed so hard she was close to falling to the floor, Rogue watched her mentor walk off with wide eyes. Was he about to say that he needed to lick himself? Surely not. Surely the great Wolverine wouldn't… Rogue shuddered at that image. It was one she could have lived her entire life without having to see, even if ephemerally.

"I agree with you there, Rogue, but you have to admit that it's pretty damn funny," Mystique commented, still snickering as Rogue shrugged her shoulders and continued on her quest to go get some food. "Hm, while you go down there, I think I need to go get somebody…"

Mystique left Rogue to go fetch a certain red eyed mutant, whistling to herself and cracking up occasionally at picturing Logan licking himself. Apparently her words had quite an affect, and she was going to use that at every opportunity she could.

"You know, if you want them to fall in love, you're going to have to stop picking on the other members of the X-Men and put all your time and effort into the two of them."

Yelping in surprise as she realized the words were directed at her, Mystique whirled around to see… well, she wasn't exactly sure what she was seeing. Was it a man? Was it a baby? Was it a bird? Blinking rapidly and gaping at the little creature that hovered about six inches off the ground, Mystique did the first thing that came to her mind.

With a little scream and a large smack, she sent the creature flying into the wall, "Demon monkey! Demon monkey!" (She had been permanently scarred as a young child by watching "The Wizard of Oz".)

* * *

Meanwhile, Rogue had wandered off, not realizing that her invisible matchmaking mother was no longer behind her. Still humming quietly to herself, she also didn't realize that a pair of eyes followed her every movement. Or that the owner of those eyes silently slipped out of his room and followed her on quiet feet.

Rogue was grateful that tonight was a Friday. That meant that most of the students would be out doing various activities. Kurt and Piotr were vying for Kitty's attention, in other words both had offered to take her out and then had tagged along when she made up her mind to go without either of them. Jean and Scott were off doing something mushy-gushy that Rogue didn't really want to hear about. And everyone else… well, everyone else was everyone else and she didn't care to give them any other sort of label beyond that.

Entering into the completely dark kitchen, Rogue debated on whether or not she wanted to turn on the light. She decided against it; if anybody walked by and saw the light on, they would know she was in there and come in and try to talk to her. Rogue didn't really feel like talking right now, especially with any well meaning teacher, professor, or student. Or worse, a student who either wanted to test out whether her newfound lust would work on them or make fun of her for it. So, in all reality, leaving the light off was the safest for everyone in the Institute.

Walking over to the pantry with only the faint light of the moon to guide her, Rogue idly thought that this setting would be very romantic, if she were that sort of person. Soft lights, empty Institute… the perfect recipe for romance. Of course, Rogue had never been fond of over the top romance, like Jean and Scott's relationship. The inner Rogue dreamt of being swept off her feet, but not in some mushy, over emotional way like one saw in chick flicks. She wanted more passion, more… well, more lust behind it all. If Rogue truly wanted to be honest, she wanted to be overwhelmed by a force of nature stronger than her own.

Sighing and sitting down at the table with a mug of hot chocolate between her hands and a tuna sandwich made and ready to eat, Rogue wondered why she was even contemplating what sort of romance she would want. It was never going to happen. This fluke of nature that was allowing her to touch while sacrificing her dignity wasn't going to last; things like this never did. Rogue was cursed by karma to have a sucky life, end of story. Sometime in a past incarnation she must have done something terrible to deserve all this, but there was no getting over the fact that her life would never get any better than mere pictures and brief touches through at least twenty layers of clothing. Usually this made Rogue bitter, but right now, the only emotion she could manage was an almost nostalgic melancholy.

"A _belle fille_ like you should never make such a sad sound."

Rogue looked up sharply, her eyes narrowing briefly. She hadn't heard him enter, but then again, he was a master thief. He had trained all his life to enter people's homes without making a sound. Gambit stood leaning negligently against the doorframe that led into the kitchen, wearing a pair of dark jeans and a white T-shirt, his feet as bare as Rogue's. She had to force herself not to jump across the table at him; his clothing may have been simple and not meant to attract, but combined with his good looks, and he looked like some rugged hero from one of the romance novels she read, the biggest secret she kept from everyone.

"What do you want, Swamp Rat?"

He grinned at her and straightened, walking to the table and taking the seat across from her and twirling it around so he could lean his arms on the back of it, "Well, at least you are talking to Remy. That's a start."

"Idiot," Rogue said, scowling at him. But Remy noticed with inordinate pleasure that she hadn't kicked him out yet, which was also a good thing.

"So, _chere_," Remy began, suddenly uncertain what to say.

Rogue sighed again, the sound weary and tragic, and placed a pale hand against her forehead, the slender fingers trembling, "Listen, Gambit, I… I just wanted to say sorry for this morning. I didn't mean to, well, to… you know. I'm not exactly sure what got into me."

Remy shifted in his seat, uncomfortable with scenes like this, "Roguey, how many times does Remy have to tell you that you don't need to call him by his codename. Remy is just fine."

"I could always call you Swamp Rat on a permanent basis," Rogue said, smiling sugary sweet. Rogue gasped and looked at him with wide eyes, "Gambit, what in the hell are you doing?"

His foot had made a slow sweep over Rogue's calf, rubbing the fabric of her pants against her leg and making her feel all tingly inside.

Still grinning charmingly at her, Remy said, "Remy don't know what you're talking about, _chere_."

Rogue started to stutter, the languorous movement of Remy's foot scrambling her poor brains. He was saying something in that low, seductive voice of his, but she could only hear the cadence and tone, not the actual words. A slow fog was spreading over her mind, and she stared at Remy with her lips parted and her eyes wide. At some point his hand must have moved, but Rogue hadn't seen it; all she knew was that one minute his hand was on his arm on the back of his chair, the next it had lifted so that his thumb could brush over her lips. He was weaving a spell over her, and Rogue was helpless to fight it.

"Are you listening to what Remy is saying, _chere_?" Remy asked, his mouth curving into a smile.

She nodded, though she wasn't sure what she was nodding to. Rogue wasn't aware that Remy was feeling a similar fog creeping over his own mind. There was Rogue, the untouchable goddess, her glimmering skin highlighted by the pale moonlight, her hair brushing softly against her forehead and cheeks. And her lips, so soft and silky smooth. Despite his best intentions to just come down and talk with Rogue, Remy found himself leaning in toward her, his lips brushing against hers.

"I don't think we should be doing this…" Rogue whispered, her eyes locked with his own. The intensity that she saw in the ruby depths made that tingly feeling stronger in her, sent a thrill down her spine.

"Oh, but I think we should…"

"I don't even like you…"

"Oh, but I think you do…"

* * *

Mystique, in the interim, had been attacking the intruder with hands and fists, randomly shouting, "Demon monkey!"

"Hey, you crazy broad, would you stop that!" No longer was it a demon monkey, but now a gorgeous, 6'10" example of male perfection stood in front of her. Mystique was tempted to drool, until she realized that this beautiful male specimen glared ferociously at her. "I'm here to help you, but I'm more than happy to let you burn in hell if you want."

Instantly contrite, Mystique said, "No, no, I'm sorry. I just didn't know what you were, and, well, nobody has been able to see me for quite a while, so I just thought that…"

"That I was a demon," the man finished, nodding. His blond curls were dazzling in the light, just one shade shy of the golden wings attached to his back. "Hardly. I'm a god. The god of love, to be precise. Eros, or Cupid, if you prefer."

Mystique stuttered for a good minute before her senses came back to her, "You know, I'd say you didn't exist, if, well…"

Eros laughed, "You don't even need to finish that. Most mortals don't believe in us until they are faced with our reality. And lucky you, Mystique; you are one of the few mortals that gets to be one of our helpers."

She frowned, placing her hands on her hips, "You know, last I remember, mortals mixing with gods only ends in tears."

"Usually, yes, but remember, you can only get your body back if you get young Rogue and Gambit to admit their love for each other."

Tapping her fingers on her hips, Mystique snapped, "Yes, well, I don't see how that's going to happen now. That essence I was given pretty much screwed everything over for the two of them, if you weren't paying any attention."

Eros laughed again, "Of course I've been paying attention. You gave her too much."

"How the hell was I supposed to know that? It wasn't like I was given an instruction manual."

"I guess it really doesn't matter, now, since the deed is done," Eros said on a shrug. "And besides, teenagers are very bouncy creatures. I bet you anything that by now, Rogue and Gambit are already resolving their differences."

"I don't see that as being very likely," Mystique said. "And even if it was, how long is this essence going to last? When it goes away, will Rogue not be allowed to touch? That sort of puts a damper on things."

Nodding, Eros said, "Yes, I can see how it would. However, the essence itself didn't influence Rogue's powers in any way. It brought her to a higher level of understanding of her true nature, her true sexual nature, and when she realized that, her final mutation kicked in as a side affect. Once the entirety of the essence has worn away, she will still have control of her powers. Actually, by the end of this, I wouldn't be surprised if her mutation had evolved into something that will make her more of an extraordinary mutant than first believed by you or Professor Xavier."

Yellow eyes sharpened and narrowed on Eros, "Just what do you mean by that? And will it hurt her?"

"Consider, Mystique, when you were first a mutant, you could only assume a few forms. Now you can take any form you wish through the evolution of your powers."

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"I hadn't planned on answering your question. I know your true nature, Mystique. Anything I may tell you could influence your behavior, and the gods do not want that."

Mystique huffed, "You make me sound like a terrible mother."

"I've seen your track record."

"People change," Mystique argued. "And besides, why have the gods taken such a vested interest in Rogue? And again, will this evolution of her powers hurt her?"

Eros smiled at her, a mysterious little half-grin that was at once as frustrating as it was devastatingly attractive, "As to the first, I cannot tell you that just yet. It isn't really my place; if they want you to find out, they'll tell you."

"They?"

"Mystique, stop being so inquisitive. As I recall, curiosity killed the cat."

"Yes, well, she seems to be doing just fine and running through walls, so that doesn't really deter me."

His hands clenched into fists at his side, a gesture that Mystique had seen thousands of times before with Magneto, "As to the second question, I have no doubt that she will go through great pain. Evolution like this is not supposed to take place so quickly without warning; any tampering with it and only pain can come."

Mystique's hands flapped around like a bird, "Then why the hell do this to her!? If the gods have such an interest in her, why hurt her?"

"_That_ I can answer. Great loves like this all must go through pain and tragedy before they can come to completion. It's the law of the universe."

"You know, that doesn't really soothe any of my motherly instincts," Mystique said, an eyebrow arched.

Eros returned her arch look with one of his own, "I didn't know you had any."

She would have hissed at him, but a commotion coming from the kitchen caught her attention, "Oh dear lord, what _now_?"

* * *

Rogue leaned in closer to Remy, all thoughts of protest gone from her mind, her lips a hair's breadth away from Remy's and fully prepared to close the distance when…

"Get your hands off my sister!"

Gasping and leaping back as if snake bit, Rogue stared at Remy with wide eyes, her cheeks flushed. Oh god, she had been about to kiss him again! And this time she couldn't blame it on any crazy behavior that wasn't induced by hormones; oh no, this was all the result of the crazy little chemicals running about in her head. And she had almost let them win!

Fortunately, Kurt's timely arrival (or not so timely, in Remy's frustrated opinion) forced Rogue to make her inner demons behave. Storming into the room, Kitty and Piotr trailing at his heels, Kurt all but frothed at the mouth.

"What are you doing with my sister? Can't you just leave her alone?" Kurt shouted, grabbing Remy up by the collar of his shirt.

"Hey, _homme_, you might want to watch what you do with those hands," Remy said, his voice no longer soft and seductive but hard and aggressive.

Kurt leaned his face in closer, "Or what?"

* * *

Mystique dashed down to the kitchen, Eros following closely behind, chuckling in amusement the whole way down. As Mystique approached the kitchen, she heard two female voices shouting at the top of their lungs for idiot boys to stop fighting and three male voices, including grunts, groans, snarls, and smack downs. Mystique sighed in frustration.

In the kitchen, Kurt and Remy were pummeling into each other, Piotr was standing behind them helplessly, unsure what to do, and both Kitty and Rogue were shouting at the boys to stop fighting. Although, Mystique noticed that both of the girls stuttered a bit each time flesh was revealed as shirts were lifted and pants shifted.

"Well, isn't this an interesting sight?" Eros asked, rubbing his hands together gleefully.

Mystique whirled on him, "Two young men fighting like this isn't something to be happy over!"

"Of course it is," Eros refuted. "If young Gambit truly had no interest in Rogue, no romantic interest, he would not have risen up to meet the challenge that young Kurt offered. And, well, don't you find it touching that your children care so much for each other that Kurt is willing to fight Gambit, who, if he could manage to keep the boy in place longer than ten seconds, could potentially do serious harm with his mutation?"

Grudgingly Mystique admitted his point, "True, but I don't want to see Gambit hurting my son anymore than I want to see him hurt my daughter!"

Eros nodded, "Nobody would, but Gambit isn't serious about hurting him. If you notice, every thing that Gambit does is a defensive move; he isn't trying to beat Kurt but get away from him. I don't think he wants to hurt Kurt anymore than he wants to hurt Rogue."

"That's it!" Rogue screeched, obviously fed up with trying to talk them into submission. "Time for the big weapons!"

Storming over to the sink and turning it on to its coldest, she grabbed the sprayer, pulled it out, and whipped around, "Time for a bath, gentlemen!"

Without waiting to see if they had even heard her, Rogue blasted the both of them with all the power the nozzle had. It would have looked like something from Playgirl magazine if it weren't for the fact that Rogue was breaking up a real fight and not one staged for a spread out. The water hit them full on, startling yelps from both boys as they flailed about to get away from the freezing spray directed at them. Rogue held the nozzle like a gun, a maniacal grin on her face as she splashed her brother and potential love interest. Kitty wasn't helping the boys, either. She just stood next to Rogue, her arms crossed over her chest as she tapped her foot in annoyance.

"Now, are you two finished with your testosterone binge?" Kitty snapped after Rogue had turned off the water, not moving away when Piotr draped an arm over her shoulders.

Remy and Kurt blinked owlishly up at the two girls; Rogue still held the nozzle in her hand, fully prepared to blast them both again if they started anything stupid.

"That wasn't nice, _chere_," Remy said, suddenly grinning as he wiped water off his face and Mystique dreaded what he was going to say next. "If you had wanted to get wet with Remy, he wouldn't have had a problem gettin- Oof!"

Kurt slugged Remy in the jaw, "Don't say that about my sister!"

"Both of you, knock it off!" Rogue shouted when Remy prepared himself to lunge at Kurt. "Remy, you aren't winning any brownie points by fighting my brother. And Kurt, I don't need you to defend my honor, thank you very much. Both of you idiot boys need to take a breather. In separate corners."

"But-"

"NOW!"

Apparently testosterone driven boys could have a strike of genius, for both Kurt and Remy realized that to defy Rogue's order would be to laugh in the face of death. And really, they didn't think they'd survive that. So, with meek apologies and tucked tails (literally in Kurt's case), the two of them exited the room, turning to go in separate directions. Rogue did not miss, however, the death glares the two sent each other as they left, but she choose to be the better person and ignore those glares.

With a ragged sigh of annoyance, Rogue slumped down in a chair, "Boys. Idiots, all of them."

"Hey!"

"Oh, sorry, not you, Piotr. You at least show some good sense sometimes. But still," Rogue said, flicking an irritated glance over at him. "Your entire gender can just be pretty damn stupid sometimes."

Kitty giggled and sat next to her, "But isn't it sweet that Remy fought for you?"

"With my brother?"

Mystique stomped around the room, "Stupid, stupid Gambit! And stupid, stupid Kurt! How am I supposed to fix this?"

Eros watched the two girls discuss (well, bash, really) the concept of men while Piotr quietly slipped from the room, "What you need to do, Mystique, is make a list of their likes and dislikes and find a way to slip that list into their minds."

"What do you mean?"

He rolled his eyes and sat cross legged on the table, right between the two girls (Mystique's eyes almost bugged out when she realized where his groin was situated in relation with her daughter), "It's not that hard, Mystique. Rogue is an Aries and Remy is a Leo. Catalogue their likes and dislikes, see which ones match up and which ones don't, get them to realize what the other likes. That sort of thing."

"And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Are you brain dead, Mystique?" Eros asked incredulously. "You're a clever woman. Figure it out."

And then he disappeared in a cloud of soft, intoxicating smoke. Rogue and Kitty jerked in their seats, their eyes widening as their nostrils picked up the faint scent that Eros had left behind. Mystique watched them closely, that sinking feeling that had become permanent in her stomach growing stronger with each second. If the scent of Eros' vapor sent her nonexistent blood racing, then what would it do to two hormonal teenage girls?

She didn't have to wait long for that answer. Kitty and Rogue looked at each other for a moment, then started to lean in towards each other, obviously intent on a kiss. Mystique screeched as yet another road block was placed in front of her path and was about to step in to break them up when a surprised intervention took place.

"Rogue! Kitty! What are you two doing?"

The two girls paused and turned, their gazes fuzzy, to see Scott and Jean standing in the doorway, their mouths hanging open. Then Jean's eyes narrowed in anger and she whirled around to face Scott.

"You want me to do _what_ with _who_?" Jean slapped him, hard, before storming off. Poor Scott stood rooted to the spot, his mouth opening and closing like a fish, his cheeks flushed in embarrassment.

Rogue licked her lips, slowly coming back to her senses, "Scott?"

He jerked, and Mystique swore she saw his eyes cross from behind his glasses, "I have to go. You two… don't have sex on the kitchen table, please."

Rogue and Kitty blinked at him, their expressions mirroring the ones that Kurt and Remy had given them when splashed with water. Scott shoved his hands into his pockets, turned, and walked stiffly away, muttering beneath his breath. Kitty and Rogue turned and looked at each other with eyebrows arched.

"What's gotten in to him?"

Mystique groaned and banged her head against the wall, "Oblivious girls. What am I supposed to do now?"

Kitty yawned and stretched, obviously not realizing that she and Rogue had been on the point of kissing not moments earlier, "Well, I think I'm going to go to bed. 'Night, Rogue. I'll see you later."

Rogue nodded, sipping on her now not-so-hot chocolate, "Night, Kitty. I'll be up in a minute or two."

Her roommate nodded and left the room, humming softly to herself. Rogue just sat there, staring into her cup of chocolate and idly running her finger around the rim. Mystique's yellow eyes narrowed on her daughter and she walked over to her, placing her hands on her hips and tapping her foot.

"Okay, so let's see what you like and don't like, my dear," Mystique said, cracking her knuckles and then placing her hands directly into Rogue's forehead. "Rogue, what is with you and the dirty fantasies! Christ, girl, you need to get laid. Okay, okay, I think I've figured this out. Let's see… favorite flower… Casablanca lilies. Hm, what's this? Your favorite color is green, but you have a secret passion for red… that might just coincide with a certain mutant's red eyes. Ooh, it looks like you're a closet romantic, my dear. Candlelight and champagne for you. And it wouldn't hurt if he recited some Keats or Burns to you. Hm… I can work with this, I'm sure."

Humming to herself as Kitty had done, Mystique floated out of the room, intent on finding said red eyed mutant. She snickered faintly as she passed Jean and Scott, the two of them having a quiet yet ferocious argument about what it was exactly that Scott wanted to Jean with a certain person. Unable to resist the temptation, Mystique stuck her fingers in Scott's forehead to see exactly who it was Scott wanted to see Jean with and huffed in annoyance when she realized it was none other than her darling Rogue ("Scott, you really need to get over this fixation with Rogue and focus on Jean.")

Satisfied (well, as satisfied as a mother could be who just saw a boy fantasizing about her daughter with another girl and said boy was supposedly a leader yet not having such leaderly thoughts about Rogue...), Mystique found Remy's room and entered nonchalantly. Remy sat at his desk, playing cards, the only light in his room coming from his computer. He was muttering to himself in French, slapping each card down with a flourish, his auburn hair still wet and tousled, although she noticed that he had changed into a pair of dry pajama bottoms and a dry white shirt.

"Okay, Monsieur LeBeau, let's see what you like," Mystique jammed her fingers into his forehead. "Hm… you are really confused, aren't you, poor boy. You're not used to having feelings for just one girl, or of the magnitude you feel for Rogue. And NO, she is NOT going to pose nude for you so you can photoshop her into a Queen of Hearts, you perv. Let's see, you like a girl with passion, a girl who dazzles as much as you do and who'll appreciate how lavishly you spend money on her, and your favorite color is bright red. I don't think Rogue will have a problem with that, although initially she might be a little resistant. Oh, good, you're a romantic, too. That'll work nicely."

Suddenly, Mystique was struck by an inspiration. Rogue's favorite poem of all time was John Keats' "Eve of St. Agnes" (shockingly, since there was actually a happy ending instead of the doom and gloom one would expect from Rogue). If Remy, say, memorized this entire poem…

Leaning over his shoulder, her hand still firmly in his forehead, Mystique cooed, "Oh, Remy, darling, you want to impress Rogue, don't you? Yes, you do, darling boy. You know, she really, _really_ loves the poem "Eve of St. Agnes", by that wonderful poet Keats, and I'm sure she would just be tickled to have you memorize the entire thing and recite it for her. Wouldn't you love to do that?"

A sort of dazed looked had come over Remy's eyes as he nodded along with Mystique's words, turning to his computer and clicking on the little 'e' symbol for the internet. Quick as that he had the poem pulled up and was busy memorizing it. Mystique smiled like a cat in the creamer and rubbed her hands together. So there were forty two stanzas. He could do it. Or he'd die trying to memorize it all. Either way, it would all be very romantic.

"Well, that's done. Back to Rogue. Let's see if I can't get her to drop the horrid dark clothing and dry something lighter for a change."

Returning to Rogue, who had gone back to her room and now lounged on her bed reading yet another of her secret pleasures, her favorite Jane Austen novel, _Persuasion, _while Kitty slept, Mystique shoved her fingers in Rogue's forehead once more and said cheerily, "Rogue, aren't you really tired of wearing all black and green? Why don't you try wearing red tomorrow? Rumor has it that a certain Cajun boy just loves that color and would love to see a certain Southern lady wear it. Come on, Rogue, don't you want to try something new for a change?"

Rogue tilted her head and regarded the door to her closet thoughtfully, "I think I'll wear red tomorrow."

"Hm, good girl."

* * *

"_Everything you are… And everything you'll be… Touches the current of love… So deep in me… Every sigh in the night… Every tear that you cry… Seduces me…_"

Smiling softly and stretching languorously as Celine Dion's haunting voice drifted over the radio, Rogue woke in a pleasurable haze. She'd had a marvelous dream, full of satin and sweat, and now she imagined she would have a good day. It was Saturday, after all, and Logan had said she hadn't needed to participate in this morning's six am Danger Room session, due to yesterday's behavior, which meant she got to sleep in a full half hour before she was required to wake up. Sitting up with a gentle sigh, Rogue didn't even notice that Kitty wasn't in the room, still lost in her dreamlike state.

Swinging her legs over the edge of the bed, Rogue walked over to her closet and pulled out a blood red v-neck long sleeve shirt that tied at the side, the stretchy, clingy material matching the black Capri pants she put on next, the fabric light and airy. She stood in front of her mirror, turning this way and that, liking this new look, and brushed out her shoulder length hair, adding a little bit of gel to make it fashionably disorderly. With just a light amount of make up to finish it off, and a spray of her favorite Bath and Body Works scent, Magnolia Blossoms, Rogue was finished and ready for this bright new Saturday.

Mystique smiled and nodded at her daughter, "Well done, Rogue. I think young Remy shall be pleasantly surprised when he sees you."

Of course Rogue didn't hear her, but she smiled a little bit anyway, as if her soul recognized Mystique's words of praise. Slipping on a pair of black flip flops, Rogue walked out of her room, her hips swishing and an unconsciously seductive look in her eyes.

"Rogue? Good lord, what are you wearing?" Jean asked, shocked when she saw the usually gothic, withdrawn girl wearing a rather… preppy outfit, even if the colors were darker. She was still reeling from seeing Rogue make out with her boyfriend, even if Rogue hadn't been quite in her right mind at that particular moment.

Turning to Jean with a bright smile (which made both Mystique and Jean draw back in horror), Rogue said, "Oh, good morning, Jean. How was the Danger Room this morning?"

Jean's eye twitched, "Rogue, I'm not sure you're okay yet. Maybe you should go back to bed or something. It's a Saturday. Sleep in."

"Oh, no, I think I'll go for a walk. That would be lovely, don't you think?" She didn't wait for Jean to answer her; she just wandered off, whistling merrily to herself as she went, thoughts of Jean pushed from her mind.

Mystique narrowed her eyes in thought, "Hmm… Maybe a little divine intervention…"

No sooner had Mystique gone dashing off cackling like a child on a mission, than none other than Remy stumbled out of his door. Right when Rogue walked by it. Gee, what a coincidence…

His jaw stubbly with a new growth of beard, bags under his eyes, and his hair as disheveled his clothing, Remy looked like he hadn't slept at all that night. And Rogue, being the kind hearted girl she was (with Mystique's intervention yet again) felt compelled to stop and question him.

"Remy? Remy, are you all right, sugar?"

Faintly she heard him mutter, "Sweet dreamer! Lovely bride! Say, may I be for aye thy vassal blest?"

Rogue blinked rapidly as she made the words intelligible within her mind, sorting through the grunts and yawns that separated many of the phrases. Was she hallucinating, or was he sprouting off none other than her favorite poem in the entire world, "Eve of St. Agnes"?

"Let us away, my love, with happy speed; There are no ears to hear nor eyes to see."

Good lord! He was! Rogue flushed to the very roots of her hair and the tips of her toes, feeling something very much like bubbles floating through her entire body as she stared at the exhausted, haggard mutant in front of her. Of course, the entire scenario would be far more eloquent and romantic if he were actually looking at her as if he recognized she was another cognizant, living human being instead of… well, he was actually sort of looking through her and he looked ready to collapse at any given moment. _That_ certainly put a damper on things.

Placing an ungloved hand against his forehead, Rogue asked cautiously, "Remy? What time did you go to bed last night?"

"Bed? Bed sounds nice…" That's what she thought he said. She couldn't be sure, since it came out just a moment before he collapsed on her.

Yelping in surprise as she was driven to the ground by his greater weight, his arms anchoring her to him so that she couldn't escape, Rogue wondered just what god in heaven had decided she needed to be punished. Within seconds of a rather uncomfortable landing on the ground that she knew would result in bruises in unmentionable areas, Rogue could hear faint shuffing noises coming from Remy and realized he was quite fully asleep on top of her, in the middle of the hall. And, of course, the weight of his body had pinned her to the ground, his chest pressed to hers, his groin over her pelvis, and his lips at her neck, a very sensitive location, Rogue found out.

Mystique, meanwhile, was panicking, "Oh dear god, how much worse can this day get?"

Why, might one ask, would anyone say such a thing in light of the recent track record of the two mutants sprawled inelegantly on the ground? Because of course, once those fateful words escaped Mystique's lips, the god of Fate had to rise to the challenge.

"Remy! Your zipper is stuck on my pants!" Rogue screeched, realizing that the soft, clingy fabric she had thought would provide her with air was actually providing her with something quite different indeed.

She wiggled beneath him, trying to squirm her way out, but he weighed more than she did, and had had the advantage of landing on top of her. Rogue ground her teeth in frustration as she felt her pants slipping down, pulled by the force of Remy's zipper. If she wanted to make it out of there with her pants firmly around her waist, she was going to have to reach down there and, well, unhook the two of them.

Looking to the right, then to the left, to see if anybody had noticed their little collapse, Rogue took a deep breath and slid her hand between the two of them, going lower, lower…

"Professor!!! They're going at it again in the middle of the hallway!!!"

* * *

**Yes, I know, cliff hanger. But it's not much of a cliff hanger, as I can assume you can predict exactly what is going to happen next!**

**I just wanted to talk a little bit about the poem I mentioned. The "Eve of St. Agnes" by John Keats is perhaps my favorite poem in the entire world, and I wanted to give some depth to Remy's character and balance the darkness that this incarnation of Rogue (as in, X-Men Evo) seems to be mired in. Let me explain this statement: basically, the "Eve of St. Agnes" is a Romeo and Juliet sort of poem, only, instead of the two of them offing themselves because they can't be together, Porphyro and Madeline run off together to live happily ever after. I absolutely adore, adore, adore the poem, and I recommend it to all of my readers! It's both amusing and romantic! Whoot!**

**Okay then, I hope ya'll liked the chapter! Tell me what you think about Kitty. And expect drunken dancing/singing in the next chapter! **

**Midnight Pomegranate **


	4. Closer To God But Not Close Enough

**Okay! I'm back! Sorry it took me so long, but I've had to work, get ready for college, and survive dentist appointments… I had this chapter finished a few weeks ago, but I just couldn't find the time to post it… And then when I came to reread it, I noticed I needed to edit it… Sooooo, after all that, here is the next chapter! Again, I don't own anything, sadly sadly sadly. **

**Hope ya'll enjoy!**

**Oh, and P.S. to Wanda W: Yeah, I know about the monkeys. I was terrified of them as a kid. Actually, I still am. I can't watch that movie without hiding my face behind a pillow when the evil monkey dudes come. ******** I totally sympathize with your sister. I put it in the story because I thought it would be amusing. I'm glad that it was! And Seyin800, yes, I love that poem. It's so beautiful, and, unlike Romeo and Juliet, actually has a happy ending. I hope you do get a chance to read it! **

* * *

**Closer To God**

**Chapter Four**

Yesterday had been a very bad day, one of the worst, actually. And today… well, today wasn't starting off with any favors. The incident this morning with Remy had placed that sinking feeling in Rogue's stomach that things could only get worse. After managing to disentangle herself from the heavy lump that constituted Remy's surprisingly bulky frame and loudly protesting her innocence in the matter (while clutching her pants desperately to her hips to keep the ripped material from falling to the ground), Rogue had returned to her room to change her clothes and change her attitude for the day. She had looked forward to walking in the sun and chatting with friends, a surprisingly upbeat feeling that had been there since she had woken up, but now all she wanted was a little solitude.

So, she had replaced her ruined pants with her favorite pair of boot cut jeans that had been washed and worn so many times she didn't know what color they were anymore, but they sure as hell were soft and fitting to her every curve. She had been tempted to leave on her red shirt, but it would just be a reminder of the morning's incident, so off it went. That had been replaced with a gray T-shirt with a cartoon representation of Captain Barbossa from one of her (secret) favorite movies, _Pirates of the Caribbean_. Everyone loved Jack Sparrow and/or Will Turner and while she (secretly) had to admit that they were both very handsome actors, her favorite character was Barbossa, as he was the one she could identify with most, so she had been ecstatic to find the little boy's shirt with a picture of him.

Now, looking very relaxed despite her inner turmoil, her hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and her feet bare, Rogue sat in a secluded corner of the mansion's grounds. She hadn't even waited to see if the boys would be able to get the unconscious Cajun into his bedroom or not; she had merely fled the scene. Hopefully, if she stayed out of the way of everybody, then she could avoid any further embarrassing incidents. It seemed that every time she got into the presence of somebody, something terrible happened; so her logic stated that if she weren't in the presence of anybody, she could avoid these terrible things. Hopefully. Then again, Fate had never really liked her all that much, so she wasn't certain how lucky she would be in this.

Sitting at the edge of the forest, her iPod and headphones planted firmly on her body and the grass tickling her feet, Rogue looked down at the sketch pad sitting in front of her. She knew she wanted to draw, but she wasn't sure what it was that she wanted to get down on the paper. So many ideas and images floated around in her brain, so many concepts she could choose from. Drawing had always been a release for Rogue, a chance for her to experience emotions and expressions that she never could in real life. Rogue rarely drew a single figure alone, unless the mood struck; almost all of the sheets within her sketchbook were of couples, usually a man and woman, the visual actualization of her deepest longings.

Mystique, in the meantime, stood next to her daughter, wringing her hands. Last night, inspiring young Gambit to memorize that poem had seemed like such a good idea. It had never entered her mind that there could be serious consequences like what happened. She had merely wanted to do something romantic for her daughter, but it had backfired on her. Frowning and watching as her daughter stared moodily at the blank page in front of her, Mystique searched her mind for some resolution to this dilemma. Pacing back and forth in the grass, Mystique was sure she would wear a path in the grass if it weren't for the fact that she was nothing more than mere ectoplasm.

So busy doing this, she didn't even notice as Rogue's pencil began to lightly stroke and curve over the page. However, she did notice when Rogue sighed, a soft, melancholic sound. Stopping in her path, Mystique turned back to Rogue and bent over to see what she stared so longingly at. Though it was just beginning, a faint outline of what was to come, Mystique could see the bittersweet beauty in it. The picture was of a young man and woman, no doubt around Rogue and Remy's age, entwined comfortably in a sitting position. As Mystique watched, the drawing took shape and color, each stroke of the pencil bringing a new shade, a new emotional texture, to the picture, and Mystique realized that, though she was quite positive Rogue wasn't even fully aware of what she was doing, the couple in the picture was none other than Remy and Rogue. They were both in a less than clothed state, the only covering to prevent the picture from being pornography a sheet covering the two of them.

Again, that sticky feeling that started with a _g_ and ended with an _uilt_ started to consume Mystique, making her writhe in anxiety. What was she to do? The elements were all there, but she just couldn't figure out how to piece them together to get the desired result. And she just _had_ to piece them together, because she was determined to get her body back.

"Come on, Mystique, think… think… what can you do to get them together…" She quickly ran through her mind the different likes and dislikes that she had discovered while searching through their brains. "Now, if I were a desperate woman, I would do this… Oh, what the hell am I saying, of course I'm a desperate woman."

Leaving Rogue to the silence of her own sketchpad and iPod, Mystique floated back into the mansion and into Remy's room. The poor boy was passed out on his bed, his mouth hanging open slightly, a small puddle on the pillow beneath him ("Ew! Gross! You're going to have to get rid of that habit, young man, if you want to sleep with my daughter!"). With a sigh of disgust at what desperate measures she had been reduced to, Mystique stuck her fingers into Remy's sleeping mind.

"What are two favorite things of yours, Remy? Shouldn't you share those things with the most beautiful girl in the Institute? Haven't you ever wondered what it might be like to do this with her, what sort of bond might be created if you share one of your secret loves? Ask her, Remy, ask her the instant you wake up. Take her on your bike. Do as I say, Remy, because you want to more than anything."

Satisfied that she had imprinted the urge on his mind, Mystique smiled and stood back, "Well, at least now that's over with… Now what to do for the next five or six hours that he'll be asleep?"

Wandering through the mansion, Mystique came across Kitty and Kurt arguing ferociously in the living room. She paused, listening in on their argument. Kitty was firmly on the side of Remy, thinking that he was the perfect cure to Rogue's loneliness, and obviously since most of her attentions had been directed to him thus far, Remy was the perfect one for Rogue. Kurt, on the other hand, was adamantly refusing to admit that Remy was even worthy enough to breathe the same air as Rogue, let alone date her. She was his sister, after all, and he didn't want to see her get hurt by a guy who couldn't keep his dick in his pants for longer than five minutes.

Arching a brow at how closely Kurt's feelings came to Mystique's, she drew closer to the couple sitting on the couch.

"Like, seriously, Kurt, I think you should give Remy a chance! You're just jealous because he's had more girlfriends than you."

Kurt almost had an apoplectic fit, "More girlfriends than me!! Kitty, you've got to be kidding me! That guy doesn't have girlfriends, he has serial dates!"

Mystique frowned at her son, "I think you're being a little too harsh to the poor boy."

She was about to "influence" her son's thoughts on young Gambit when Rogue came walking into the room. Her sketchbook was tucked in her arms and her iPod had been shoved into her back pocket, her headphones draped around her neck. Though she seemed to be aware of the fact that Kitty and Kurt were in the room with her, she was studiously ignoring them, walking straight over to the window seat and sitting down with one leg tucked under her butt.

Kitty and Kurt shared a concerned look before Kitty turned to her best friend, "Hey, Rogue, how're you doing?"

Looking out the window, Rogue shrugged, "I'm fine."

Mystique was wondering why she came into the building when she knew that her daughter had had the intention of staying outside the entire day. Sidling over to her, Mystique dipped her fingers into Rogue's head and read that she had gotten depressed by her own drawing and needed human company. Of course, that didn't mean that she was going to be polite with said company, but she still wanted it.

"So, um, Rogue, what do you think has been happening to you lately?" Kurt asked, getting up to move over to where his sister sat. "I've been really worried about you."

Looping an arm around Kurt's waist, Rogue gave him a half hug, "I'm fine, Kurt. Thank you for asking. Really. I'm not sure what's going on, but I think whatever it was is finally going away."

Kurt returned the hug, his wide yellow eyes still worried. Mystique gave her son a once over, her eyes narrowed as she considered him. He was a very handsome boy, just turned eighteen and in his senior year with Rogue. He had become a very handsome boy, his body long and lean, and his blue hair, once long and shaggy, now cut in tight curls to his head, giving him an almost roguish sort of look. Also, the love he felt for Rogue was as obvious as the love Rogue felt for him, and Mystique wondered what she had done right to deserve two such amazing children that actually liked each other. Probably nothing, she was probably not the one to congratulate on that, but she liked to think she had some sort of a hand in it all.

The three teens chatted for a few more minutes. Just idle chatter about the day, the weather, what sort of movies had just come out, anything to avoid the conversation about Rogue's behavior. Mystique watched as the three carefully stepped around the touchy subject, almost amused and very impressed that they managed to talk for a good thirty minutes without once mentioning any of Rogue's episodes.

Finally, however, Rogue stood up, stretching out her muscles, "I think I need to go take a shower. I'll talk to you guys later, okay?"

"Sure, Rogue."

"Like, have a nice shower, Rogue!"

She waggled her fingers a little as she exited the room, still carrying her sketchpad tucked under her arm. Glaring at any kid stupid enough to laugh at her as she walked by, Rogue made her way back up to her room and shut the door as quietly as she could. She wanted to slam it, her ire having been kicked into high gear again by the chortles of the students, but she knew that if she slammed it, she would attract someone's attention, and she didn't want that.

Tossing her sketchbook on her bed, followed by her iPod and headphones, Rogue stripped off her shirt and jeans. Wandering over to her closet, Rogue pulled out one of her fluffy green towels, sized extra large so that it would cover enough flesh, and wrapped it around her body. Whenever she went to the bathroom to take a shower, she always left her underwear and bra on beneath her towel, just in case. She ripped out the band holding back her hair and tossed it on the pile of clothes she had left on the ground, then walked out of the room.

Starting up the shower, Rogue waited for the water to get hot, hanging up her towel and letting her bra and underwear stay in a pile on the floor. Moving to stand in front of the mirror, her palms placed flat on the counter, Rogue looked at the reflection the mirror offered her. Was it just her, or had her hair grown a few inches? And now, naked, she was sure that her breasts were larger than normal and her skin a shade or two darker than her usual alabaster. Rogue frowned at her reflection, allowing one of her hands to drift over her face. What was happening to her? And would she survive it?

The hot water on her skin felt absolutely marvelous, and Rogue reveled in it, scrubbing her body red with her sudsy loofa, the heady scent of Bath and Body Works' Magnolia Blossoms filling her nostrils. It was another favorite of hers, soft and romantic without being too cloying. Oh yes, this looked to be a long, pleasant shower.

Meanwhile, Mystique was not so busy twiddling her thumbs and wondering what to do next. The boy had been asleep for several hours; surely by now it was time for him to wake up. Her eyes sliding between the bathroom and Remy's room, which happened to be conveniently located three doors down the hall, Mystique fought to suppress the wicked idea forming in her mind.

"No, Mystique, bad Mystique. You can't do that. It's wrong. Bad images will be placed in their brains. Then again, she _has_ already jumped the boy… They're already halfway to consummating anyway, so what's one peek? No, no, you can't. You're a mother. Mother's don't set this sort of thing up for their teenage daughters. We're supposed to give them talks about avoiding getting pregnant, not engaging in the behavior that will lead to pregnancy. Then again, you were her age when… No, bad thought, very bad thought. But you want your body back, and that isn't going to happen with the two of them pussyfooting around each other and not actually doing anything."

Determined on her line of thought, Mystique nodded firmly and walked with a purpose to Remy's room. As she had predicted, the boy was still asleep, but he wouldn't be for very long. Smiling like a cat, Mystique perched on the edge of his bed and delicately placed her fingers inside his head.

"Oh, Remy, darling," she purred. "Don't you have to use the bathroom? You've been asleep for an awfully long time, and you didn't go to the bathroom at all last night while you were memorizing. Surely your bladder is just full to popping right now. The bathroom is just three doors down, no more than a few steps, really. Why don't you get up and relieve your bladder. Think of waterfalls and rivers, and the ocean, just swaying and sloshing…"

She didn't have to continue. Remy's eyes popped open; he muttered something that faintly sounded like "must pee!" (although Mystique couldn't be sure, since it was heavily muffled), and rolled off the bed. He ran a hand through his tousled curls, setting them even more askew than they had been before, and stumbled out of the room. Mystique followed closely behind him, rubbing her hands together in anticipation. Yes, there would be much screaming, but hopefully the good kind, not the bad kind.

Rogue, in the meantime, had been singing softly to herself, one of her favorite Sarah MacLachlan songs, "Ice". She was broken off mid lyric, however, when something sounding suspiciously like a door opening caught her attention. Jerking her head in the direction of the door, which she couldn't see through the heavy shower curtain, Rogue's hands automatically went up to cover her breasts, although they eventually drifted down to cover other regions. Surely she was hallucinating… no, no, there was a person in the room with her, peeing! Trying not to gag, Rogue was torn through utter humiliation and rage. And, of course, she had a pretty good bet who was in the room with her. Fate was a bitch and Rogue was her plaything, of course it would be the only person in the world that Fate seemed to love having Rogue enter into highly embarrassing situations with.

Trying not to breathe and hoping that nothing would happen, Rogue's shoulders sank with relief when the person flushed the toilet. However, she wasn't prepared for the icy cold blast of water that went with it. Yelping in surprise, Rogue leapt away from the frigid spray. Only, the floor was just as wet as her skin, and, with another desperate yelp that sounded close to a "why me?" sort of cry, Rogue went tumbling to the ground. Instead of going toward the wall, which really would have been preferable in the long run, Rogue fell backward, her hands clutching at empty space.

Imagine Remy's surprise, then, when a large bundle of shower curtain and limbs collided with him just as he had zipped up his pants. Grunting at the impact, Remy's arms instinctively went around the writhing bundle, preventing it from falling at the cost of taking a few steps back. He was utterly shocked; he hadn't even realized somebody was in the shower. Then again, his one thought had been relieving himself, and that had sort of consumed his attention, as it did most men. Imagine his greater surprise when, in a huff, an entirely naked, entirely wet Rogue emerged from the curtain, flinging off the ruined plastic with outraged squeals and pants.

Rogue, trying to be free of her plastic prison, had completely forgotten that she had been caught before she had plummeted to what surely would have at least produced a coma. She realized it, however, when something decidedly hard and bulging pressed up against her stomach. Gasping, Rogue looked up in surprise to see Remy, his eyes dilated and his breathing coming out in short, sharp pants, his clothing now wet and his arms wrapped tightly around her very wet skin. For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other, very much aware of what had come to attention in so short a time span. Rogue's hair was plastered to her face and skin, her eyes were wide and completely make up free, and she had not a stitch of clothing on her; that about summed up all of Remy's thoughts at the moment. Rogue, on the other hand, was caught between mortification and the lust that had rocketed through her as the heat of Remy's body scorched through her own.

However, reality eventually reared its ugly head (compared to the not so ugly one that Rogue was seriously contemplating becoming familiar with…). Rogue gasped again and jerked out of Remy's arms, successful most likely due to the fact that the other mutant had become paralyzed by both shock and lust. Whirling around so that Remy was presented with a full view of her derriere (a fact that did not go unnoticed by the boy), her entire body flushed (a fact that Remy could attest to) and she wrapped her arms over her chest.

"Remy! Oh my god! What are you doing in here?" Rogue hissed, keeping her voice soft so that she wouldn't get anymore of an audience.

His eyes glued to her ass, Remy was at a complete loss for words, "Remy… uh… um… you… had to… holy shit. Do you have a tattoo?" Was that… was that a tattoo on her ass? Oh dear lord, it was. There, scrawled out in stark black letters in calligraphy style, was the single word, "Aries". Obviously she was extremely proud of her astrological sign. Remy was fascinated by the way the letters contorted and changed slight shape as she moved around and how they stood out starkly against her alabaster skin.

Rogue's arm lashed out and her hand attached itself to her towel, dragging the protective material tight around her body. When she was satisfied that she had it safely around her, Rogue turned to see Remy's eyes now glued to the black lacey bra and underwear that she had left so carelessly on the ground. Barely managing to suppress her shriek in time, Rogue bent down and snatched the offending garments up, her face so red it could have easily passed for a tomato. Remy's eyes followed her, involuntarily trailing to the creamy swells of her breasts that were visible above the extremely tight bond of the towel, the edge of which sadly ended just below her knees.

Her eye twitched. She knew it did. It had to have twitched. Surely a girl could only suffer so much before her eye started twitching.

"REMY LEBEAU! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING IN HERE! AND WHY WERE YOU STARING AT MY ASS?"

Remy licked his lips, trying to force his lust-fogged brain to work so that he could come up with an answer that wouldn't upset her. He knew what he needed to say, needed to do, to get himself out of this mess. But for the life of him, he just couldn't. Remy Jr. was in control now, and woe be it to Remy, for he knew it was probably going to end up doing catastrophic damage.

"Remy be impressed that you managed not to shout at the top of your lungs," Remy finally managed to say, licking his lips several times as he tried (and really, he tried, he really, really tried) to force his eyes skywards instead of boobwards.

Emerald eyes darkened dangerously and fists clenched at sides, "You barge in here while I'm taking a shower, and all you can say is that you're impressed that I managed not to shout? Are you brain dead, or do you really have a death wish?"

Finally his brain kicked into gear, and he lifted his hands in surrender, "I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!"

Then, like the semi-smart boy that he could sometimes claim to be, Remy tucked tail and fled, shutting the door softly behind him.

Mystique, who had been watching the entire intercourse, now frowned in annoyance. That had not gone as she had exactly planned it to, but oh well, oh well. She could still work with it. Tapping her fingers on her cheek, she watched Rogue pick up the ruined shower curtain, muttering beneath her breath about idiot boys and how they could make even the most saintly of women wish to commit homicide. Huffing and puffing around the restroom, gathering her belongings, Rogue flung the door open, murder in her eye. She knew there would be people out there. Fate hated her, remember?

Floating along behind her, Mystique tried not to sigh as disappointment filled her. She had hoped that they would be so lust driven that they would fall to the bathroom floor and start to fornicate like bunny rabbits, but apparently they weren't quite ready for that yet.

"Rogue? Was that Gambit I just saw come out of the bathroom?"

It was Scott, looking a mixture of confused and protective. And then, of course, it got ten times worse, because just as Scott said that, Logan was coming down the hall. The instant the words left Scott's mouth, Logan frowned ferociously and bounded over to the two.

"What did he say, Stripes? Did Gumbo walk in while you were taking a shower?"

She flexed her fingers once, twice, trying to prevent herself from going postal on the two of them. "No, that wasn't Gambit, Scott. I think you were just imagining things, okay?"

Both men frowned at her, and Rogue, pushed to the very edge of her limits this morning, stomped her foot on the ground hard and screamed at the top of her lungs, "WILL EVERYBODY, INCLUDING WHATEVER GOD WHOM HAS DECIDED THEY HATE ME, PLEASE JUST LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE!?"

And then, without waiting to see the puzzled expressions on Logan and Scott's faces, Rogue stormed into her room, slamming the door shut as hard as she could, making the walls rattle with the impact. Kitty, who had been sitting on her bed when Rogue made her rather violent entrance, took one look at her friend, gathered up her laptop and meekly left the room. Only a very brave or very powerful person was safe around Rogue when she was in this mood.

Stomping around her room, babbling incoherently Rogue flung off her towel, pulled on a new pair of underwear and a new bra, a pair of butt shorts and a tank. She continued to mutter as she dried her hair, angrily yanking at the damp curls with her brush, visions of torturing anything with testosterone floating around in her brain.

Mystique looked on nervously, biting on her nails, "Ohdearohdearohdear, this is not what I had in mind… How can I rectify this?"

Leaving Rogue to stew in her own anger, Mystique went to Remy's room. The boy was sitting on his bed, his head in his hands, looking very dejected. Cautiously, feeling much less self-confident now, Mystique allowed her fingers to drift through Remy's head. The poor dear was feeling very remorseful and was angry at himself for having such a lack of control that incident after incident could happen like this with Rogue. How was he supposed to win her if every time they even were in proximity with each other something calamitous happened?

She withdrew her hands, looking down at young Remy anxiously. He was right; how were they supposed to get together if every time they were near something happened just to drive them further apart? Maybe she was coming at it from a wrong angle. Maybe she just needed to plant little bitty seeds and let them handle the rest. It was certainly worth a shot. Everything she had tried up until now had so far failed miserably.

Placing her fingers back into his mind, Mystique suggested, "Maybe, a little bit later, you can… offer a sort of gift. Just a little something to show her that you actually care about her and don't just want to sleep with her. Something special to you, that's important to you, something you enjoy. Share something with her."

Remy straightened on his bed, his head tilting to the side in an unconscious gesture of thought. Mystique was tempted to see what had suddenly entered his mind but, she decided, this one time she would let him surprise her as well as Rogue. If she didn't like his plan, she would be forced to change it, so she wanted to wait a little while, let the boy do something on his own. Very magnanimous of her.

So, leaving the boy to his own devices (and admittedly a little afraid to venture into Rogue's room), Mystique wandered out into the hallway. She assumed it would be some hours yet before Remy set his plan into action, so she had some free time on her hands. Any altruistic feelings she may have felt toward her daughter and intended beaux were not going to be directed at anybody else in the Institute.

Whistling and snapping her fingers, Mystique looked around for her next intended target. "Iceman… no, he's too easy… That idiot Tabitha? No, she'd just laugh it off… Who who who… Ah! Perfect!"

Mystique's golden eyes narrowed and if she'd had a tail, she would have given the perfect impression of a cat, swishing and swaggering its way toward its prey. Just a slip of the finger here and a few whispered words there and…

"SCOTT!!!"

"Wait! Jean! No, I didn't mean to put my hands _there_…" Scott trailed after Jean as she stormed away, the imprint of her hand almost becoming a permanent feature on his face.

The teenagers that had witnessed all of this were laughing uproariously, and Mystique clapped in delight. Okay, one target down… Another to find.

The sounds of a shower eventually reached her ears as she wandered the house, and Mystique naturally drifted in that direction. She was pleasantly surprised to find that the shower was in none other than Logan's room. All but purring, Mystique thanked whichever god concerned him or herself with luck and all that. Even though she didn't really need stealth, it made it all the more fun to try to walk quietly, humming the theme song to "Mission: Impossible".

When Mystique entered the bathroom that was only for Logan, she received something of a shell shock. The shower that was currently being occupied by the infamous Wolverine had no curtain, no glass door to hide him. Thus, Mystique got to glimpse the full monty. Or at least, the full monty from the side. Her mouth dropped open as she looked at Logan, water running down his stocky frame, and she… marveled. He was glorious! Heavily muscled yet not fat, every inch of him was toned to perfection, and though there was an excess of hair, she had never actually minded that. Her eyes wandered over the almost pornographic scene she had been presented with, down his rock hard abs, lower… lower…

"Oh my fucking god, am I eyeing up _Wolverine_?" Mystique almost gagged as she realized the truth of that. Had Eros somehow made him look more attractive? Millions of thoughts chased about in her head as she tried to come up with a reason as to why she was suddenly lusting after a man whom she had tried to kill on many occasions, and vice versa. Then again, there was that one night, too much tequila… She'd never had much of a tolerance for tequila…

"No, Mystique. Bad Mystique. Those are memories better left repressed so far beneath the surface that no shrink could ever get to them. I must take my revenge on all that masculine glor- no, no, on that idiot animal who tears into things with vigo- NO! Stop it, you bad girl. Now, what shall I do to him?"

Then, of course, he turned around to her, so that no longer did she view him from the side. Oh no, now she had the full monty full view, all frontal. Mystique's eyes crossed and for the first time in her life she held up the white flag and ran out of the room as if the very hounds of hell were at her feet. When she felt she was a safe enough distance away from sin and temptation, she leaned against the wall, fanning herself.

"Dear lord… He really _is_ hung like a stallion!"

* * *

Several hours later, when he was sure it was safe, Remy crept stealthily to Rogue's room. He knew that she hadn't left it at all, and hoped that maybe all of that alone time had somehow cooled her temper. He hadn't really handled things well this afternoon. Or this morning. Or yesterday… How depressing.

Standing outside of her door, Remy cheated a little. Using his empathic ability, he tested the waters and was more than relieved to find out that Rogue's temper had indeed cooled, although she was still upset.

"Well, upset is better than furious, and Remy can work with that," he muttered to himself, preparing the courage necessary to knock on the door.

Rapping his knuckles against the wooden barrier that separated Remy from his green eyed goddess, he waited anxiously for her to open the door. He didn't have to wait very long.

Rogue swung the door open, scowling ferociously, "What do you want, Swamp Rat?"

He laughed nervously, holding his hands up in the age old truce signal, "Remy was just wondering if he could talk with the _petite_?"

Of course, it didn't help that she wore shorts so small they could be considered underwear and a tank top that looked like it belonged to Kitty instead of Rogue, so tight against her body that it squeezed her breasts up in a very enticing manner. Remy Jr. tried not to pay attention, but really, it was pretty damned hard. Both literally and figuratively.

She considered him for a moment, her green eyes speculative. But whatever she was looking for she must have found.

"Fine. You've got five minutes."

Rogue opened the door wider and allowed him to come in. Following her, Remy tried to keep his eyes level with the top of her head, but really, the memory of the tattoo had returned fresh to his mind when presented with the image of her ass lovingly cradled by the small scrap of cloth she called shorts. And, if he wasn't mistaken, occasionally when she walked a peak of said tattoo was visible. Was she purposely trying to torture him?

Sitting on her bed with arms crossed, she looked up at him expectantly. Coughing a little, Remy tried to gather his wits, noticing that she had obviously been reading Henry James' _Turn of the Screw_ before he had come in. So she was a closet Classics lover, was she? He'd have to store that little tidbit.

"Well? Are you just going to stand there ogling me like you usually do, or are you going to say something?"

That snapped him out of his musings, and he rushed out in one breath, "HowwouldyouliketogotoabarwithRemytonight?"

Her eyebrows arched imperiously, "Say that again? And slower, please."

Rubbing the back of his ridiculously red neck, Remy tried to give her his best puppy dog grin, "Remy was just wondering if you would like to, ah, mean, if you would want to go to, mebbe, a bar with him tonight? Remy knows this charming little spot that most of these Yankees probably haven't even found yet…"

Rogue arched an eyebrow, "Are you asking me out on a date, Mr. LeBeau?"

The red that had stained his neck crept into his cheeks, "Thought that after all Remy'd put the _bon fille_ through the least he could do is get her a drink or something."

"But I'm underage."

"That don't matter. He can still get you in. Pretty girl like you, no problem at all."

The silence that stretched next made him almost afraid that she was going to turn him down, but then she said, "If Logan catches us, he'll kill you."

Now suave, debonair Remy was back, "Only if he catches us, _mon amour._ Remy be a master thief. Don't think the old Wolverine can catch him."

Rogue snorted, "Better men than you have tried to outwit Logan and failed. Painfully."

Mystique, who had been listening in to the entire conversation, smiled to herself, "Not if I have anything to say about it he won't, dearie."

Taking a deep breath and licking her lips, Rogue nodded, "But I'll go with you, Swamp Rat. If only because I deserve to get drunk after the past few days I've been having."

Giving her a wide, almost lecherous smile, Remy said, "_Magnifique!_ Meet Remy outside, by the front gate, in thirty minutes. We're going to a rowdy bar, so you might not want to wear anything fancy."

"Thirty minutes? You think I can get ready in that little of time?"

"Thirty minutes."

Rogue smiled faintly and shook her head as Remy went whistling out of the room, his hands in his pockets and a swagger in his walk.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, and after several suggestions into Logan's mind that would keep him away and blissfully ignorant on what one of his beloved students was planning on doing with one of his not-so-beloved students (thanks to Mystique), Rogue was ready to go. She looked in the mirror one last time to make sure her appearance was perfect.

Remy had said they would be going to a sort of rowdy bar, so she shouldn't wear anything fancy, and Rogue had taken him on his word. She had put on the jeans she had been wearing earlier and a vest that theoretically should be worn over clothing, it was so low cut and revealed so much skin. But, since her skin was no longer deadly (at least, not without her permission), the black leather vest that left no room for a bra would be a perfect torture method. Black combat boots, a few leather bracelets, a little bit of make up, a spritz of her Magnolia Blossoms perfume, and she was done.

Mystique followed along behind her as she went down to meet Remy. She had no intention of going to the bar with them tonight; she was going to employ her new and revolutionary method known as letting them out on their own. But she did want to make sure that the girl made it down to young Gambit with little problems. And thankfully, being an invisible spirit with the ability to control young mutant minds had its perks, like getting rid of any passer-by's that might interrupt her daughter's grand night.

When Remy caught sight of Rogue, however, Mystique all but purred in satisfaction. He took one look at the way her hair fell in silky waves around her face and shoulders, a mysterious, sexy disarray purposefully fluffed to perfection, the vest that barely contained her cleavage, and the toned abdomen that had generous proportions on display, and he was a goner. Hook, line, and sinker.

Rogue wasn't unaffected by Remy's appearance, either, and she blatantly looked him up and down. Like her, Remy wore a pair of jeans and combat boots, paired with a white wife beater and a black button down shirt over that, the long sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair, as always, was mussed, and around his neck was a leather strap with some sort of small amulet hanging from it.

At her curious look, Remy said, "For luck. Remy's _tante_ gave it to him."

She snorted, "What, you hoping to get lucky tonight?"

"Remy but live to serve the _petite fille_."

Shaking her head at the enigmatic answer, Rogue walked over to him, "So, are we gonna go or not?"

"Follow Remy, _chere_. Promise he won't lead you wrong."

Mystique watched the two of them leave the building and "borrow" Cyclops' little red sports car, "Oh, I hope you can keep that promise, Remy…"

* * *

The bar that Remy led her into was called Gator's Heart, a little place in downtown Bayville, with an obvious Southern theme. It was like walking into a reproduction of the bar from the movie Coyote Ugly, only with no beautiful women dancing on the actual bar. The music was loud, though, and it was packed to the brim with displaced Southerners looking for a little bit of home. A perfect spot for a girl who felt like she was more than just a little lost.

Like he promised, Remy got her in easily. She hadn't doubted that he would be able to, and really, with her enhanced looks, she had to admit that she looked like she was older than her actual age. And since Remy wore sunglasses to hide his obvious mutation, nobody would know that a pair of mutants had just walked in, so they didn't have to worry about trouble on that front. Remy led her to a table in one of the corners, his hand on the low of her back, a warm, reassuring presence in this unusual spot.

After sitting down and ordering their drinks (a shot of Southern Comfort for Remy and Jack Daniels for Rogue), she took a long look around the place. The atmosphere was lively and boisterous, and she was drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Remy, of course, fit right in, laughing with some of the people and lounging in his chair like a king of a castle. She also noticed, with a flush of pleasure, that he seemed to be flirting outrageously… with only her.

"So, Remy… how did you find this place?" Rogue asked, taking a nervous swallow of her Jack Daniels to fortify her suddenly fluttering nerves.

He grinned at her, inordinately pleased that she had called him by his first name rather than by any of the other names she had for him, "Wolverine brought Remy here first, and ever since, just sorta been coming here on a basis. Nice folks."

That didn't surprise her that Wolverine would have brought him here. Wolverine, with his healing ability, could be a heavy drinker, and it seemed that Remy had a high tolerance for alcohol, so naturally they would be good drinking buddies.

As they chatted, Remy was even more pleased to notice Rogue loosening to him. Of course, that could be because of the massive amounts of alcohol she was drinking. Remy had a high tolerance for alcohol, but he'd only ever seen the Wolverine drink this much and be only slightly fuzzy. Until, of course, somebody gave Rogue a glass of tequila. Apparently tequila was marked out in her DNA to make her insta-drunk. For whatever reason, Remy, in his own not-so-drunken-just-pleasantly-buzzed haze, watched in amusement as Rogue stood up and stretched, her eyes mischievous.

"Wanna dance?"

"Anything for the pretty lady!"

They went out to the dance floor, Rogue leading him out like a practiced siren, a seductive curl to her lips. Remy wondered if whatever had gotten into her the other day to make her so lusty had returned but then he realized he didn't much care. She writhed and twisted against him, shaking her hips to the music and driving Remy so wild he didn't know what he was going to do with himself. They danced together for several songs, the upbeat music making their movements frenzied, and Remy's eyes almost crossed when he saw the sweat glistening like jewels on her skin. Some god out there was just as surely torturing him as he or she had been torturing Rogue. He couldn't do anything with her tonight, not when she was far too plastered to understand the consequences, but the bright emerald eyes that gleamed with a fiery passion at him tempted the saint with him, and all knew that that particular creature was not a very strong influence within him.

Fortunately, he was stopped from being teased when Rogue started for the bar, "Rogue? _Petite_, what're you doing?"

She grinned and tugged the wrist that he had grabbed a hold of, "I'm going to go dance on the bar. C'mon, Remy, let's go have fun!"

Her eyes were bright, her cheeks were flushed, and she was slurring. That tequila had made her totally smashed. The Rogue he knew would never, ever put herself in such a spotlight.

"Rogue, Remy don't think that's a very good idea."

"Aw, c'mon, buddy, let the girl dance!" one of the drunken patrons demanded with cheers from his fellows while the group of them all but carried Rogue to the bar. The girl, meanwhile, was laughing giddily and drunkenly crawled up onto the bar. When she had steadied herself up there amidst the hoots and howls from at least the male half of the patrons, Rogue gave them all a look that was so searing, Remy knew that every male in there (himself included) got a hard on. Of course, it didn't help that her jeans were so tight they were molded to her skin and the leather vest she wore slid over sweat glistened flesh.

As she stood up there, a song completely incongruous to the little bar but perfect to the moment came on. Nine Inch Nails' "Closer" started playing, the sharp drums announcing its arrival sending Rogue's hips into provocative undulations. Dancing around up there like any professional stripper, a triumphant, seductive smirk on her face, she intrigued and enchanted Remy. Then she started singing with the music.

Staring straight at him and running her tongue over her full upper lip, Rogue sang, "I want to fuck you like an animal… I want to feel you from the inside… I want to fuck you like an animal… My whole existence is flawed… You get me closer to god…"

Remy felt like she was wrapping the two of them into their own little world. Even though logically he knew that she was smashed and just letting loose, he felt like she really was singing the song to him, dancing for him, and not for the masses in the bar that were rooting and howling their encouragement of her sexy twirls. Of course, Remy was a little buzzed himself, but even then he still felt like she was there just for him.

When it got toward the end and only instrumentals remained of the song, Rogue really got into it, going up and down on the bar, running her hands through her hair and throwing out smirks that were so damned sexy men were actually trying to paw the bar to get at her. She just laughed at them and danced away. However, when one managed to grab her by the ankle, Remy snapped out of his own lusty daze and marched over to the bar. Rogue had already dislodged the man's hand and was giggling like mad, proof of her drunken state, and Remy was glad that he arrived when he did.

In a glory of chocolate brown tresses and tight faded jeans, Rogue tumbled from the bar and straight into his arms, her balance lost behind the mist of alcohol in her mind. The sexy siren was gone to be replaced by the giggling and stumbling girl that Remy was seriously starting to be worried about.

"C'mon, _petite_, think it's time for Remy to take you home," he muttered, grabbing her underneath her armpits to keep her from falling on her ass.

Looking up at him with a ridiculously trusting expression, Rogue repeatedly patted him on the shoulder, "D'n worry, Rem. Gonna be fine!!"

He groaned, managing to interpret her words. She would be fine, but he wouldn't when Logan saw the two of them coming up the road, and Rogue completely sloshed. Remy would be shish-kabob Cajun ala carte. He just hoped that Logan would still be somewhere else when they got back. He had never intended to get Rogue this drunk, hadn't thought he'd be able to with how she was drinking, but apparently tequila was now off limits for her.

Leading her over to the car, all the while trying to hush her as she shouted and bounced around, Remy tried not to groan. Who knew that Rogue was going to be a loud drunk?

"Whoopsie!" Rogue cackled as she ran head first into their car, tipping her body so that she fell into the car, laughing hysterically.

Despite himself, Remy couldn't help but smile down at her, lying in the back of the car, her hair spread out and looking so carefree. He was glad that he had only had a few glasses of SoCo so that he could enjoy the sight of her, so happy, for once letting go of her unrelenting morose attitude.

Driving home, however, was another matter. Not only did she start singing at the top of her lungs, but she had a nasty tendency to lean out the edge of the car and shout to random people on the street, seriously frightening Remy as he considered the fact that her position bared far too much cleavage to those she screamed to. He was terrified that she would go toppling out of the car, and then he himself would allow Wolverine to shish-kabob him. Holding on to the thin strap that constituted the back of the flimsy leather vest she wore, Remy cursed to himself, trying to keep her from doing something stupid.

* * *

Mystique watched in horror as Remy tried unsuccessfully to silence an obviously drunk Rogue. She was stumbling around and chattering away while he had an arm around her, trying to keep her steady and quiet. It was after three o'clock in the morning, and Mystique had started to get worried for the two. Seeing them now, with Rogue drunk and Remy frantically trying to keep her quiet as they crept into the institute after parking Cyclops' car, made her almost livid.

Stomping over to the two of them, Mystique was about to teach the boy a lesson he would not soon forget when she paused. Maybe this was just the opportunity that Rogue needed to loosen up and get laid. It seemed perfect. She had ensured that Logan would be nowhere near the front grounds tonight, so they didn't have to worry about being caught. The only thing they really had to worry about was whether or not the two of them were sober enough to get a condom on him.

Smiling and clapping to herself, Mystique now regarded the situation with amusement. Remy was obviously trying to be patient but, with his sunglasses off and his eyes darting around nervously, it was obvious that he was afraid they were going to get caught. Mystique could have assured them that they wouldn't be caught, but nobody could hear her.

"NINETY-NINE BOTTLES-OOF!"

"Rogue! Be quiet!" Remy hissed as he slapped his hand over her mouth, his other arm wrapped firmly around her shoulders.

She gave him a sultry look, something Mystique didn't even know she was capable of. Rogue did something then (and Mystique assumed it involved her tongue) that made Remy shudder in surprise and moan quietly. Just when Remy opened his mouth to say something to her, Mystique's assumption was, of course, proven wrong.

"What the hell have you done to my sister!?" Kurt, obviously alerted by the noise and having waited up to see where his sister had gone, had just bamfed into the space just in front of them. He wore his pajamas and his hair stood on end, as if he had been running his hands through it over and over.

Remy was, for the first time in his life, at a loss for words, gaping like a fish and stuttering, trying to find a plausible excuse. Rogue, meanwhile, beamed at the two of them, a fuzzy, not-quite-there look in her eyes.

Kurt grabbed her by the chin, "Rogue, are you drunk?"

Her brow furrowed in confusion, and Mystique dreaded what she was going to say, "Um… green?"

She looked so pleased with her answer, as if that had been what Kurt was asking, that Mystique started to snicker. Of course, Kurt didn't find it in the least funny. He started cursing softly in German while Remy cursed in French and Rogue stared between the two of them with an almost too-innocent expression.

"Ro-"

"Nighty-night, brother!" Rogue said just as she placed both her hands on Kurt's very surprised face. His eyes rolled in the back of his head while Remy started to gape some more, Mystique joining him.

"Rogue! Did you just…?"

He didn't have time to finish that question. Rogue grabbed him by the hand and ported the two of them out of the room, while Mystique stared at her unconscious son sprawled inelegantly on the floor, "Oh dear god."

Remy, meanwhile, barely had time to cough when the smoke around the two of them settled before Rogue pounced him. He was vaguely aware that she had ported the two of them into his room, but he was more aware of the fact that Rogue's arms were around his neck, her body was pressed up against his, and she was ravaging his mouth.

He just barely managed to maintain coherent thought as he ripped his lips away from hers, leaning his against the wall she had pressed him up to, "Rogue, we can't do this! You're dru- oh my god!"

She wasn't playing games any longer. One hand went directly into his pants while the other fumbled with getting his shirt off, and all good sense (of which Remy never had much of in the first place) went out the window. Now it seemed to be a race as to who could get the other undressed first. Clothing was ripped and thrown to the side as they stumbled over to his bed, lips met bared flesh and moans filled the room. In the faint light of the moon, Remy noticed that Rogue's eyes were now wider and slightly tilted, glowing ever so slightly, much like her brother's did, making her look like an exotic nymph come to have some fun.

Falling onto his bed, Remy panted as he thanked whatever god might be listening, his body on fire as Rogue straddled him, still in her underwear (a delightful little confection of red lace), her hands running all over his body and her lips following them. He had wanted this for so long, and the girl was driving him absolutely crazy, and now the only thing left between them was her lacy little red thong, so sexy it drove him even crazier. And her hands! _Mon Dieu_, her hands! He had never known that she knew how to touch a man like that.

Then, suddenly, she stopped. Remy, his eyes half closed, stared up at her in confusion, feeling as if he were one step away from Heaven's doors, "Rogue? What's wrong, _chere?_"

"Oh my."

And then, the worst happened. The most clichéd, right-out-of-the-movies sort of calamity that could have ever befallen this poor boy. She fainted dead away on top of him, collapsing like a little rag doll. Remy just stared up at the ceiling, too shocked to move, still hard as a rock and needing fulfillment. But there was no chance of fulfillment tonight. She was utterly and completely passed out.

Apparently the gods he had just been praying to had a very, very sick sense of humor.

Cursing them and trying not to weep at the lost opportunity, Remy rearranged the two of them so that they were curled together spoon-style. Her skin glowed in the night, soft to his touch, and he pressed a chaste kiss to her shoulder, knowing it would be a while before he would be able to join her in sleep. Drawing the covers up over him, he whispered, "Good night, _mon chere. J'taime_."

* * *

**Well, I hope that everyone enjoyed that chapter! Just a little warning, next chapter is going to have more drama. As much as I love humor, I need some angst and high passions to balance it out! Expect her evolution in mutation to rear it's ugly and painful head. **

**Kay then, love all! Midnight Pomegranate **


	5. Disappear

**I am so sorry everybody! I didn't mean to take this long, but things just got so busy! Last semester was such a hassle, and I had to work, too, that it took me a while to get time to sit down and work with this chapter. And now this semester I have nineteen credits of upper division history and English courses… Ah me! But don't worry, I promise not to forget this story! **

**I am so glad that you guys like this, though! Makes me very happy! This chapter would be longer, but I've just been so hurried… Don't worry, the next one will probably be longer and funnier, as I have dastardly plans for Mystique regarding Wolverine. Just out of curiosity, would anybody be interested in seeing them end up together as a couple? I've always thought that there was a fine line between hate and passion that could easily be crossed. I would love to hear your input! **

**And I just want to apologize beforehand at the serious tone of this chapter. This is supposed to be a humorous story, but I needed some seriousness in it to balance it out. Don't worry, Kurt and Wolverine and Scott – and the torture of the three of them by aforementioned blue invisible mutant – will return in the next chapter. **

**Hope you guys enjoy the chapter! And anything you want to see in the story, just let me know, and I'll see if I can fit it in! I totally had a different idea for the beginning of this chapter, but then the idea of what would happen if she woke up was planted by my lovely reviewers… So please, tell me more!**

* * *

**Closer to God**

**Chapter Five**

She was utterly warm and content, every bone in her body certainly having melted away to become a puddle of liquid. Full consciousness or awareness hadn't completely penetrated just yet, but she was okay with that. She just wanted to cuddle in her nest of covers against the superheated pillow that was obviously the length of her body. Perhaps a bit longer, actually.

Rogue moaned in sheer bliss and snuggled closer to said pillow, trying once again to find the peaceful slumber she had just been experiencing. Only, when the pillow moved in response to her own shifting, a little jolt of shock went through her. Pillows weren't supposed to move, were they? Last time she had checked, they were just inanimate objects. Trying to work her way through the fog that crowded her mind was difficult, and more than a little painful, and it was with great vexation that Rogue pried one eye open to find out why her pillow was moving.

A round, firm pectoral wasn't exactly what pillows were supposed to look like.

Suppressing the instant shriek that rose up against her lips, Rogue forced her body to utter stillness so that she could survey the situation, completely and fully awake. She didn't want to look up, was afraid of who she would see if she looked up, so she decided, instead, that she'd look down. Without moving, her eyes slid downwards, taking stock of everything. She was sprawled half over a very well formed masculine torso, the rippling muscles so well toned that a god would surely be jealous. Around the bicep of the arm that she was not lying on, there was a circular tattoo, and right beside the hair that trailed in a thin line down the top of his groin was a tattoo of the queen of hearts. Rogue gulped when she realized that the man she was lying on was completely butt stark naked, the sheets coming to the very edge of his groin, thankfully covering the bulge there, and then dipping down to reveal the top of a thigh and narrow hip. What was worse was that Rogue was fairly certain that she was completely butt stark naked, too, the sheet that covered the man coming up to the curve of her buttocks and leaving the rest of her creamy flesh bare.

Now it was time to face the music. Heinously aware of the arm that was curved possessively around her back, Rogue's eyes gradually drifted upward. Slowly… slowly… slowly…

"Christ," she muttered. It was Remy. Of course it was Remy, the gods hated her, remember? His beautiful auburn hair was tousled around his head, he had a shadowy growth of beard on that too-handsome face of his, and Rogue was pretty sure that his lips (so sexy!) were curved into a blissful, goofy sort of a smile that usually was seen only on men after having wild, fabulous sex.

Shit. Shit shit shit. Shit shit shit and more shit.

Did they…? She couldn't remember, actually. She couldn't remember much of the previous night, and she was starting to get a ferocious headache; which meant that the reason she couldn't remember involved alcohol. Why in the hell had she allowed Remy to talk her into going out with him? The bastard probably had this all planned out. Of course, how he knew that tequila was the one form of alcohol she couldn't tolerate, she didn't know, since she was fairly certain she had never told anyone that. Maybe he had bribed Jean; the redhead certainly had a reason to be annoyed with Rogue, even if the stick up her butt did make her kind of a tight ass, no pun intended.

Gently extricating herself from his arms (and studiously ignoring the soft little whimper of protest he made in his sleep when she was gone), Rogue sat up and rubbed her temples. Her head was pounding, she was naked (although, after a quick peek, she was relieved to find out that she had on some underwear – she was too cowardly to check if he was the same, although she was fairly certain he wasn't), and her temper was building in steady increments.

Remy made a little smacking sound in his sleep, and Rogue turned evil eyes on him. How dare the bastard sleep on peacefully like this when she was fully aware of the situation they were in (even if she wasn't, really, fully _aware_ of it). The first time she had sex, and she didn't even remember it! With a furious little growl, Rogue slammed her hands flat against his shoulder and shoved with all her might, sending him flying off the bed. Her actions woke him, obviously, and he tumbled to the floor in a heap of naked flesh (and what an ass that boy had! Not that she was looking…) His yelp of surprised pain would have been comical if she had been in a mood to laugh.

"_Merde!_ What the hell is going on?" Remy shouted, startled from a sound sleep and very pleasant dreams, shooting to his feet. He slapped his hands to his chest, where he usually kept his cards, but when they only met bare flesh, he stopped. And stared. And remembered. "_Merde…_"

Rogue was all but livid, so angry that she didn't even care that the extremely handsome Remy was standing naked in front of her or that she was just as naked. Dragging the sheet up around her shoulders and slipping out of the bed on the other side, she turned on him with flashing emerald eyes, "Remy, what happened last night?"

He gaped like a fish, grabbing a pillow to protect his modesty (although people would normally question whether or not he had any…), "I…I… nothing!"

"Liar!" Rogue snarled, holding the sheet around her chest with one hand. With the other, she grabbed his lamp off the bedside table and flung it at him with all her might. Poor Remy, her aim was all but perfect, and as his reflexes were rather slow this morning, he had time only to make sure that it hit his shoulder instead of the original target, his head.

"_Non!_" Remy shouted when Rogue moved to grab something else and throw it at him. "Nothing happened, _petite!_ I swear! You passed out! We didn't do anything!"

Holding his clock threateningly, Rogue asked, "Then why are we both naked? Huh? Explain that, swamp rat!"

Remy stuttered over his words, trying to get something out, but it obviously wasn't working. With another shrill screech emitted from between her teeth, Rogue flung the clock at him, hitting him square in the stomach. More projectiles followed that, forcing Remy to give up any sense of modesty in the face of self-preservation and use the pillow to direct the heavy, painful objects away from his malleable flesh. It didn't occur to him to throw anything back of fight her, despite her very real intent to do him bodily harm. However, they were both shouting at each other at the top of their lungs, she calling him all sorts of foul things while Remy tried desperately to defend himself.

Of course their ruckus caught the attention of others. Within minutes, the door slammed open, and Wolverine, Kurt, and Scott all tumbled in, ready to fight. When they saw the state of undress that both Remy and Rogue were in, Remy with a hand covering his prized jewels and Rogue clutching Remy's sheet over her body, three identical roars of rage could be heard miles off. Poor, poor Remy was simply not going to have a good morning.

Wolverine rushed Remy, and he swore he saw his life flash before his eyes right then and there. Grabbing him by the throat, Wolverine slammed the very naked Remy into the wall, while Kurt and Scott rushed over to Rogue, who was shouting at Wolverine to leave him alone. It was a riot of voices as everyone in the room sought to be heard (or freed from ridiculously strong fingers wrapped around a throat…) Scott and Kurt were trying to see if Rogue was okay, Rogue was screaming at Wolverine, Wolverine was threatening all sorts of deaths for Remy, and Remy was just trying to breathe.

Mystique, meanwhile, had been drawn to the room by all the noise emitting from it. When she saw what was going on, she recoiled in horror, "Dear God! What's going on?"

How much had she missed? She had just wanted to give the two lovebirds privacy because there were some things a mother just should _not_ witness, so she had waited until now to come see them, and look what she found! The shouting had attracted the attention of other students, evidenced by the large crowd of them gathered outside of the door, but it didn't look like intervention was on any of their minds. Fortunately, however, having a telepath in the building was a very handy thing, indeed. A very harassed looking Professor Xavier wheeled through the students, followed by Ororo and Jean and firmly closing the door on the entire spectacle amidst a chorus of disapproval from the students.

After several failed attempts to try to draw the attention of the five people in the room, the Professor finally shouted at the top of his lungs, "QUIET!!"

It was the equivalent of pouring cold water on the members of the scuffle. Rogue, Scott, and Kurt snapped their mouths shut; Wolverine even managed to keep his growling down to a minimal hum. At the ferocious look sent his way by the Professor, Wolverine huffed, rolled his own eyes, and pried his fingers loose. Remy fell to his knees, grabbing his swollen and bruised throat and coughing repeatedly to drag air into his abused lungs. Rogue looked like she was inclined to go over and help him, but Scott and Kurt's hands on her arms prevented her from movement. Mystique stood in the background, watching everything with a worried expression; not once did the idea that this was somehow all her fault even cross her mind.

"Now that we are all a little calmer," the Professor began, "would someone care to tell me what is going on?"

Four people began speaking at once, a jumble of voices with different versions of the same story. Knowing that this wasn't going to get him anything but a severe migraine, Xavier held up one hand, effectively silencing them all once again. "No, I believe we should start off with Rogue, as I think she is probably where we are going to find most of the answers."

Red suffused Rogue's cheeks, very close to the color of the underwear she wore, "Well, Professor… I, um, shit…"

He scowled at her while she massaged her temples, "Rogue, there is no need for that kind of language. What do you have to tell us?"

"Other than the fact that I've got a killer hangover and I wish everyone would just not shout? How about, I can't remember a single damn thing from last night?" Rogue snapped, starting to feel prickles of unease beneath her skin.

That probably wasn't the wisest thing to say. Three male voices clamored to be heard once more, angrily demanding a recount of the previous night from Remy, who was still in no state to defend himself. Kurt didn't help matters by recounting his own participation in the story.

"Last night, when you came home, _meine Schwester_, you were drunk! So drunk you could not walk straight! And that… that… that… Gambit was with you. You absorbed me!" Kurt finished on a high note, pointing a finger between the two of them.

Rogue winced at the pitch, "Did I really? I'm sorry, Kurt…"

"You got Stripes drunk? I'm gonna kill you!" Wolverine snarled, taking a threatening step toward Remy. The Cajun, sensing imminent danger to the continuance of his existence, scooted back on his butt to the corner of his room, holding his hands up defensively.

Xavier, however, stalled him, "Logan, leave the boy alone. I'm fairly certain that Rogue didn't get drunk unwillingly."

Rogue coughed and flushed some more, tucking her chin into her neck and giving her best pathetic puppy-dog look when Wolverine turned his angry parental unit glare on her. She was fairly certain that she hadn't gotten drunk unwillingly, it was the part after that that she wasn't certain about.

The Professor continued the conversation without admonishing her, "Now, Gambit, if you are sufficiently restored, if you would so kind as to tell us what happened last night?"

"It's obvious what happened last night, Professor!" Scott said indignantly, his hand flexing on Rogue's upper arm. "He got her drunk and then had sex with her!"

Remy leapt to his feet, regardless of his nudity until Jean and Ororo both went into coughing fits. While he wrapped his comforter toga-like around his hips, Scott and Wolverine glared at the two furiously blushing women. Rogue didn't blush; she'd obviously already seen it all.

"_Non_! Nothing happened last night between the _petite_ and Remy! Swear it! She passed out!" he repeated the same things that he had said to Rogue.

And Scott gave the same accusations as Rogue, "Then why are the two of you naked?"

Rogue was rather curious about that, too, so she made sure she paid close attention, despite the hammers that threatened to push her eyes out of her sockets.

Remy was silent for a moment, his eyes on her face, before saying, "We probably would have, but she passed out halfway through. After Rogue teleported us up here, I honestly did try to get her to go to her own room, but I was a little buzzed, and, well… the _petite_means… the_petite_ is very attractive and _very_ persuasive. I gave in. But I swear, nothing happened. I passed out shortly afterward, which is why she woke up here instead of in her own room."

The room was silent. Remy obviously was serious; he rarely spoke in the first person unless what he said he expected to be taken with the utmost sincerity. Rogue felt something tighten in her chest, a brief welling of some emotion that she refused to name, as she stood there watching him basically admit something that most men would be embarrassed to admit. While she was grateful that nothing had happened, and she did believe nothing had, there was still some little part of her that was… disappointed, in some sense. Of course she would have preferred to remember her first time, but still, for some inexplicable reason, she was actually a little depressed.

When nobody said anything, Remy turned in a panic to the Professor, "I swear it! Nothing happened!"

Xavier nodded, the ghost of a smile hovering on his lips, "I believe you, Remy. While I am disappointed at the both your behaviors, I am glad that you did not allow yourselves to get completely carried away. The next time you feel the need to take a minor and get her drunk, please don't."

"What, that's it? That's all you're gonna do, Chuck?" Wolverine asked, his eyes wide.

"I do believe they have learned their lessons," Xavier said, that odd little demi-smile still there.

Wolverine and Scott started to stutter in astonishment. Kurt turned to his sister, yellow eyes somber on her face, "_Was kann ich für dich tun?_"

Rogue arched an eyebrow, though it hurt to look at him. It hurt to look at everyone, the pins and needles piercing her eyes and skin making it almost painful to simply be conscious.

"_Warum fragst du das?_"

He pulled her into the corner, slightly away from the squabbling X-Men, "You do not look like you feel well, sister. And your actions last night were not usual."

A spasm of guilt crossed her face, "I am sorry that I did that, Kurt. I have no idea why I did it."

"I know why you did it, and for anybody else, it would have been understandable," Kurt said, placing his large, three fingered hands on her shoulders. "But you are not someone I would have expected it from."

Mystique rolled her eyes; really, what did the boy think, that his sister's blood was made of ice? When a woman had a scratch, she had to itch it, and any sort of hindrance would be dealt with in the most expedient way possible. That meant absorbing Kurt and leaving him unconscious on the floor of the Mansion's entrance so that other early bird's could take pictures of a blue furry mutant sleeping with his mouth hanging open and drool puddle around his lips…

"How can I help you?" Kurt asked, recognizing the emotional turmoil his sister was in.

Rogue opened her mouth, prepared to answer him, but no words came out. Her lips snapped shut on a huff of breath as all color left her face and her body instinctively hunched over to protect itself from the pain that suddenly gripped it. She had tucked the sheet around her chest, leaving her arms free; they now rose to her middle where it felt as if the organs there were twisting in a fiery pool, threatening to claw their way out of her body.

"Rogue?" Kurt asked when she whimpered, her eyes glazing over. He called her name again, but she didn't hear him. The pain, first only minimal, had grown so very rapidly, taking over her body, taking over her mind.

Mystique, standing behind her children, watched the events unfolding in panic. Eros had said that this new, forced evolution would be painful for Rogue, but since Mystique hadn't seen anything to that effect yet, she had hoped he had been exaggerating. However, as she watched Rogue fall to the ground, her body convulsing over and over while her back arched off the ground in unnatural angles, Mystique wished she could be better prepared for the totally new, maternally bred feelings of motherly terror she felt as she watched Rogue suffer. Her daughter's hands clawed at the carpet, desperate to find something to hold on to, to keep the pain at bay, her knuckles white and her face strained as her body tossed about. The entire room was gathered around her, afraid to touch her, afraid to make matters worse. Remy (who had somehow managed to get into a pair of pajama bottoms while the others had been arguing) and Kurt were pressed closest, identical expressions of panic and fear on their handsome faces.

The noise level of the room had risen again with the onset of Rogue's seizures, everyone frantic to try to figure out what was going on, to try to get through to Rogue. Deep, hoarse, whooping coughs of pain were the only sounds she was able to make as blood dribbled out of the corner of her mouth, mixing with the tears streaming down her face. Remy and Kurt tried to hold down her shoulders, tried to calm her, both visibly shaking with the intensity of their emotions, but nothing seemed to be working, and no one knew or understood what was happening. Even though Mystique couldn't be heard, she screamed in time with her daughter, screamed at the X-Men standing behind Remy and Kurt, helpless to do anything, feeling more helpless than those X-Men, wracked with guilt, knowing that _this_, at least, was her fault.

The door slammed open just as Rogue's seizures seemed to begin to calm. Hank McCoy, obviously summoned by Professor Xavier telepathically, came lumbering into the room. The X-Men standing around and doing nothing to help the situation moved to give him berth, though Wolverine and Scott had to practically grab Remy and Kurt beneath the armpits to get them away from Rogue so that McCoy could get to her. Small tremors still wracked her body, her head tossed back and forth while she mumbled incoherently, and though her eyes were open, the irises were rolled to the back. McCoy knelt next to her, scooping her up into his large arms and briskly carrying her out of the room.

* * *

Miraculously, or thanks to Xavier, the halls were completely deserted, but McCoy had an X-Men train following him as he carried Rogue, still wrapped in Remy's sheet, to the MedLab. To his credit, he didn't ask what she was doing in a sheet, or what she had been doing in Remy's room; McCoy was an extremely accepting man and took most everything in stride. One had to living in a house stock full of horny teenagers.

McCoy placed Rogue's body on a gurney; she had stopped seizing completely, but the result was a limpness of limbs that made her heavier than natural for someone of her light weight. Mystique watched as McCoy, Xavier, Storm, and Wolverine shooed the younger members of the X-Men out of the room, having to get physical in the case of Remy and Kurt. She had felt rather like she had been tossed into a whirlwind, Rogue's sudden seizures coming out without warning and sending the people around her into such a frenzy of action that Mystique was fairly certain the rest of them were exactly sure what to think, either. Everything had simply happened so fast. Mystique was trying, unsuccessfully, to suppress the guilt that was biting on her ass with razor sharp teeth.

"I warned you that there would be pain."

Jumping about a foot off the ground, Mystique screamed and turned in a half circle. Eros leaned lazily against the MedLab wall, his arms crossed over his impressive chest. Today all he wore was a simple pair of leather pants; really, the man wasn't a god, he was plain evil, a demon sent from hell to torment her.

Snickering, Eros nodded, "Well, love has a way of tormenting people."

"Are you reading my mind?" Mystique asked, her attention momentarily turned away from her daughter.

"There's no need to; you're broadcasting loud enough that I'm surprised Xavier can't pick you up," Eros answered, waving a hand at Xavier.

Mystique was tempted for further comment, but decided, for the first time, to try to take the higher ground, "What's happening to my daughter?"

Eros and Mystique watched as the three men of the room turned their backs as Ororo shifted Rogue around and got her into one of those dreadful hospital gowns. Rogue's skin was paler than normal, almost a sickly green, and even Mystique could tell that it was sticky and clammy from sweat. Her face was distorted in grimaces of pain and every once in a while she would mumble something beneath her breath. Mystique was too frightened of what she would see to go snooping.

"Her evolution is progressing," Eros said, his tone now serious and quiet, as if he, too, were discomfited by seeing Rogue in pain.

"How?" Even though Mystique didn't need to whisper, she found she was doing it anyway.

Eros shook his head, "I cannot tell you that."

"Cannot or will not?"

He cut his eyes to her, annoyed by the challenge, "Cannot. Even I do not know such things. I am merely your liaison with the Others because Hermes has more important things to do than council an errant mutant. The Others do not tell me everything, and if they did, I do not think they would wish for me to inform you until they are ready for you to know."

"The Others?"

"Don't ask."

* * *

Remy sat on the floor outside of the MedLab, his head in his hands and his elbows propped on his knees. He didn't have much of a hangover, but he was wishing he could claim one. This day was just not going very well at all. He hadn't intended for the two of them to wake up in the same bed, especially in their state of undress, and he certainly hadn't intended for the entire Mansion to come and see the spectacle. Frankly, he was impressed that Wolverine had had the control not to kill him; impressed and grateful. While a tiny part of Remy's brain said he'd be willing to die for Rogue, he didn't want to die because an overprotective mutant got the wrong impression of a very bad situation.

And now… now Rogue was sick. Or something. Remy wasn't exactly sure what was going on. One minute everyone was yelling at each other, trying to talk about everything, and the next Rogue was flopping around on the ground. He had never been so terrified in his entire life, and that was saying something. It was as if something had gripped his heart and squeezed tight, watching her go into seizures, because he had not been able to help or even understand the reason behind why she was having seizures. That probably was the worst of it all; the lack of understanding, which meant a lack of being able to help. He knew that Rogue wasn't epileptic, he knew she didn't have seizures, so what was happening to her?

Surely it wasn't alcohol poisoning? She hadn't had _that_ much alcohol, and any sort of negative effects would have set in by now if she had had too much.

Everything was just happening so fast. Remy felt like Storm had created one of her tornados and tossed him into it. Actually, he wouldn't be surprised if the weather witch decided to do just that. She was as protective as a mama bear, especially when it came to the very lonely mutant that Remy was fairly certain he was falling for.

"Tell me the truth, Gambit. Did you and my sister do anything last night?" Kurt asked. The blue mutant as sitting next to Remy, looking as dejected and worried as Remy felt, and not in the least threatening.

In responsive to the whispered question, Remy shook his head and said, "No, we did nothing. She truly passed out, and I did, too."

"_Danke_."

Remy just jerked his head. They lapsed into silence. The silence stretched into long seconds, and then into minutes, and then into hours. Remy didn't know how long they sat there, he and Kurt, but it stretched interminably. Scott had paced in front of them for a short while, but eventually he had been called away, instructed by the Professor to see to the younger mutants. After Scott left, nobody came out into the hallway. The Professor, Dr. McCoy, Wolverine and Storm all stayed locked in the MedLab, and while occasionally either Remy or Kurt could hear short bursts of conversation, for the most part, the silence was deafening.

Remy had not moved an inch since they had brought Rogue to the MedLab; he had just started to doze off in exhaustion when the doors finally opened with a soft swish. McCoy stood there, next to the Professor, both of them looking drawn and haggard. Remy and Kurt leapt to their feet, looking expectantly between the Professor and McCoy.

"Well? Is she okay?" Kurt asked, when neither McCoy or Xavier said anything.

"Yes, she seems like she will be fine. Just tired. She's asleep right now," McCoy said, giving what was obviously supposed to be an encouraging smile to the two boys.

"Why did she start to have seizures? What's wrong with her?" Remy asked, running his hand through his hair and making it stand out wildly.

The room grew silent again. So silent that it was uncomfortable. Remy wanted to scream at the two of them, wrap his hands around their throats until they told him what was going on.

Finally, Xavier said, his voice disturbed, "We don't know, exactly. She didn't have too much alcohol, yet she has no genetic predisposition toward seizures. There was nothing… physically wrong with her."

"Physically?" Remy and Kurt said at the same time.

Xavier and McCoy looked between themselves, and then Xavier looked back at the boys, "I spent some time in her mind and it was… chaotic, to say the least. There was so much going on, it was difficult to find her. Actually, I was unsuccessful in finding her completely, although I do believe she is hidden somewhere within her own mind. All of the psyches of those she has absorbed, though, seem to be anxious over something, but I could not seem to gather what it was, exactly."

Mystique, hovering anxiously behind the two older mutants, was a rather large, unattractive ball of guilt at that moment. She knew what was going on, what the psyches were anxious about; she wondered if her own, still contained in Rogue's mind, understood what was happening and decided to blab to Rogue. That probably wasn't the case, though; after all, if that little part of her hadn't told Rogue the entire truth about her past, then she doubted she would tell her what her real self had done.

Now, though, through her machinations, her daughter was lying all but comatose on a sterile gurney in a tacky white hospital gown, and the boy she was supposed to be getting to fall in love with Rogue now had a death warrant out on his head a la the Wolverine. And, to make matters worse, she was all but certain that the Professor knew she was around. Well, it was bound to happen, after all; if he didn't, as a powerful psychic, sense her, Mystique would begin to question his so called abilities.

Yeah, everything was going just peachy.

Not.

* * *

"_Oh la la, chere, your eyes sparkle like a thousand of the most brilliant emeralds." _

"_Oh please, Gambit, don't give her that melodramatic French crap. As if she'd want a con artist like you. She wants a real man, like me."_

"_What kind of real man only has one eye, Cyke? She wants someone fast, don't you, Roguey-pie?" _

"_Yeah, with a four second detonation pattern. Get real, Speedster. She wants someone to rock her world. What d'ya say, baby, you, me, making our own kind of earthquake?" _

_Rogue lounged on a luxurious, Egyptian cotton divan, draped in diaphanous ivory scarves that revealed as much as they hid, covered in jewels of the most brilliant clarity from head to toe. Her hair was pulled back in Grecian style, a tiara nestled into the brown curls, and she watched the half naked men argue for her favor. She was in a room that was an exact replica of a Mediterranean agora, the throne room of kings and queens long gone by. _

_In front of her, each wearing identical scraps of white gauzy fabric that served as loincloths and golden manacles around their necks, Gambit, Cyclops, Quicksilver, Avalanche, Colossus, and a variety of other equally handsome mutants vied for her attention. And she gave it, indulgently and graciously, calling to each of them in their own turn. Her slaves, her beautiful protectors. They were guarding her from the Nameless, from the One that Threatened. It beat at her ornate doors, a rhythmic thud that would not go away. But these were her Darlings, they would not let anything harm her. _

"_You know you want me, chere. Everyone wants a piece of the Rajun Cajun," he wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, making her smile. _

"_You've been obsessing over me since we first met," the Cyclops said, puffing out his chest and flexing his arm muscles with a winning smile. _

"_Da, but you love the big, tall, and dark, no?" Colossus said, giving an equally goofy pose. "The muscles, they are fabulous, no?" _

_Rogue swung her legs over the edge of the divan, and immediately all talk ceased. She stood, the queen in front of her people, tall and regal. The noise, the pounding, it wouldn't go away. Why wouldn't it leave her alone? She stared at the golden doors, designed with intricate murals, shuddering with the force of each pound. THUD! She stepped down off her dais, and was instantly surrounded by her protectors. THUD! They pressed against her, wrapping their warm, reassuring masses around her body, Gambit and Cyclops closest of all. THUD! _

"_Why won't you leave me alone?"_

* * *

Remy sat next to her bed. He had been sitting here for nearly four hours now, still wearing the pajamas he had hastily put on earlier that morning. It seemed like years ago now. All he could think about was the girl lying so pale and still in the bed, looking like she was merely asleep instead of in the coma that Hank had announced she was in not thirty minutes ago. He held her hand, her cool knuckles pressed against his lips, and stared at her. McCoy hadn't said when she would wake up; it could be a day, it could be a week, it could be… never. With comas, things were less certain; and if she didn't wake up in six days, there could be permanent brain damage.

And the worst part about it, they didn't even know why she was in a coma. As Dr. McCoy had said in that annoyingly sympathetic voice of his, there was simply "no medical explanation" as to why she wouldn't wake up, or what had triggered this sudden illness. Remy translated that to mean that Dr. McCoy actually had a fairly good idea, but refused to tell anyone, because it didn't fit with any real medical explanation. But since the whole concept of mutation shouldn't be real, anyway, Remy was fairly certain that the laws of medical explanations could be ignored and a gander considered as good as a guess.

Remy looked to the left, then to the right, before he leaned closer to Rogue's ear, placing the back of her hand against his cheek, "_Chere_? Can you hear Remy, _chere_? You need to wake up now; the whole Institute is in an uproar. The_petit_ Kitty-cat can't stop crying, and even ol' Red looks pinched around the mouth. Don't you want to wake up to see that, Roguey? Of course, you've always been more beautiful than her, but now, with the worry lines, Red ain't looking so great. Come on, _chere,_Remy knows you're mad at him, but really, is this the best way to get back at him? Promise, on every single jewel that Remy ever stole, that nothing happened last night. Just wake up, open those _bon_ eyes of yours and tell Remy to go to hell, won't you?"

But there was no response. Just the steady and slow rise of her chest, in tune with the beeping of the instruments that she was hooked up to. Remy sighed; this was going to be a very long night.

* * *

_Beep. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeeppppppp._

"Jesus!" Rogue's eyes snapped opened, the word a gurgled protest as the definitive sound of her death rang in her ears. The beeping had been a peripheral awareness, but now that the flat-line announced her state, Rogue panicked. Hyperventilating, a million thoughts went through her head at once.

'_I can't die! I'm too young to die! I can't die, not when I haven't even had sex! I can't go to Heaven a VIRGIN!! This isn't fair! I didn't even get to say goodbye to anyone, or… or… Wait a minute…_'

As logic started to rear it's ugly yet welcomed head, Rogue realized that there was something very off here. If she were dead, her heart certainly wouldn't be racing, and the scent of a clinical, sterile hospital room wouldn't be heavy in her nostrils. Nor, she was sure, would she be aware of the fact that the white surrounding her looked exactly like the walls of the infirmary at the Institute or that her body hurt like hell. Frowning, Rogue forced her poor, scrambled brain back into semi-working action. She was aware, and that of all things should tell her that she wasn't dead yet. While she had no idea what the hereafter would be like, she was pretty sure that she wouldn't be much aware of her surroundings or any aches and pains in her body.

So then what the hell was that sound? Where was the flat-line coming from? Blinking rapidly to clear the panic-induced haze that had clouded her eyes, Rogue looked around and realized that the flat-line was coming from the machine that was not a foot away from her head. She was on a gurney, in a drab hospital gown and in one of the freezing rooms of the infirmary. Why was she here? And why was the machine flat-lining?

The answer came in the form of the grunt on her other side. Gingerly turning her head (again wondering why it felt like it was near to bursting with a heavy liquid), Rogue saw Remy, bent over at the waist, his head braced on his arms, which were in turn braced on the side of her bed. He must have shifted and pulled on the cord that was connected to the heart monitor, and when it had disconnected, it had gone into flat-line. How he was able to sleep through it when it had woken her up out of God knows what, she didn't know. Feeling the panic rise again at waking up in the infirmary without any memory of why she was there, Rogue coughed.

The sound, however, did not wake up Remy, who was obviously passed out in exhaustion. So she forced her throat, as dry as the Sahara, to manage, "Remy."

When that didn't work, Rogue scowled. He was not being very helpful. Here she was, lying in the infirmary, feeling like her head had just exploded and trying to fight the fear of memory loss, and he was sleeping! Ungrateful boy. Nevertheless, she had no idea how to get his attention. The flat-line was an annoying buzz on the other side of her; she obviously wasn't being monitored if Dr. McCoy hadn't come racing in yet. And here she thought she was a valued member of the X-Men; some valued member, if everyone slept through the sound that theoretically announced the cessation of the beating of her heart.

Huffing, Rogue wiggled her fingers, determined that she probably had enough strength to move them, and managed a sort of warped crawling drag of her hand toward Remy's face. And flicked him. Hard. On the nose.

Yelping, Remy reared back, his hand instinctively going to his nose. Rogue puzzled at his appearance; there were large bags underneath his eyes, and a heavy growth of stubble on his chin, as if he hadn't shaved in days. He looked tired and excessively weary, yet when he realized that her eyes were open and she was staring at him, excitement entered his beautiful eyes and he jumped up so quickly that his chair fell back with a clatter.

"_Chere!_ You're awake!" He took her hand between his and looked so happy, she expected a puppy-dog tail to start wagging at any moment. Then he noticed the flat-line, and frowned, "What the hell…?"

It took him a minute, but eventually he realized that he had dislodged the monitor from her. Smiling sheepishly and offering apologies, he placed the monitor back on her, waiting a moment for the machine to start beeping normally again. That done, he said, "Wait one moment,_chere_. Remy just gonna go get McCoy."

He dashed out of the room, running so fast that he slipped a little on the slick floor. Rogue snorted, wishing she had had a camera. And then she wished that she couldn't smell; she must have been out for a while, because she smelled terrible. And felt terrible. Where was Dr. McCoy? Her head felt like lead and her mouth like cotton. She could barely move her body, and there was still that fact that she had no idea why she was in here that was hanging over her shoulder like some deathly spectre.

Mystique hovered next to her bed, happy that her daughter was awake, but worried. Though Rogue couldn't see herself, Mystique could. Rogue's eyes, usually a beautiful, luminous green, were now hard and sharp, a pale, pastel emerald that was so unnatural it was almost as if her eyes were blind, though Mystique knew they were not. Her hair, too, had seemed to grow longer, caught in heavy tangles around her head and shoulders now, but when she stood the mass would probably fall to just beneath her shoulder blades. The peachy glow that she had gained was gone, her original alabaster returned at such a startling degree it was as if she had no color in her skin at all. Taken in whole, she looked like she was hidden behind ice, so vastly altered that Mystique wondered how the others would respond.

Remy came rushing back into the room, McCoy and Xavier on his heels. Mystique could tell that McCoy was embarrassed; his ruffled fur attested to the fact that he had been asleep. Mystique couldn't completely blame him, though; this was the fourth night since Rogue had gone into her coma, and everyone was exhausted and beyond wrung out. The Wolverine and young Gambit had been her daughter's constant companions, although Wolverine was now out doing his usual rounds since it was now just past three in the morning. That brought a wry smile to Mystique's lips; it was the same hour that she had given Rogue the succubus serum. A coincidence? She doubted it.

"Hello, Rogue. How do you feel?" McCoy asked as he started to check on her vitals.

When Rogue indicated that she couldn't speak, McCoy and Mystique frowned in union. But then McCoy sighed sadly and patted Rogue's arm, "Oh well, don't worry, my dear. You've been through a trauma; this is to be expected."

Xavier, having rolled up next to her, asked, "Do you remember anything that happened, Rogue?" Mystique could tell from the Professor's expression that he was disturbed over her new coloring, and from the looks on Gambit and McCoy's faces, it was obvious they were just noticing it, too.

A little jerk of her head indicated that she didn't, so Xavier explained to her what happened. A stricken look entered her eyes, but it was obvious she had no more idea than Beast what had happened to cause her coma. The last she remembered, Xavier divined from her mind, was the argument in Remy's room, and then, well, no more. At least no more physical memories; she seemed to have flashes of odd memories that Xavier supposed were from her psyche, hidden within itself during the coma.

"_Vos yeux_…" Remy said, brushing a finger over her cheek, his own eyes turbulent.

"We will discuss this later. Right now, I believe Rogue is very tired and should try to get some sleep," Xavier said, taking Remy by the arm and pulling him away.

"Sleep! She's been asleep for four days!" Remy protested, stumbling back.

Xavier shook his head, noting Rogue's heavy eyelids, "Nevertheless, that was not sleep, it was a coma. She will merely be asleep, Remy, not in a coma. You should go back up to your room, she will wake up after she has rested some, and maybe then she will feel up to talking." When Remy protested, Xavier said firmly, "No, Remy, you will not stay down here another minute. You need to get some real sleep in a real bed. Do I have to force this issue?"

Looking mulish, Remy shook his head and followed McCoy out of the room. The Beast was going off to get some files he had dug up on similar cases, leaving the Professor alone with a now-sleeping Rogue.

"Mystique, I know you're there."

She almost shit a brick. Jumping about a foot in the air as Xavier's gimlet gaze swung to her direction and pinned her down, Mystique hunched over and started to idle away.

"Don't you dare try to leave, Mystique. It took me a while, but I know you're there. What have you done to Rogue?" Xavier demanded.

"I didn't mean to hurt her." Was that her voice, all whiney and pitiful? Mystique curled a lip at herself, but what could she do? Her daughter was in deep trouble, and it was all because she, selfishly, wanted a body. Once again, Mystique was forced to question whether or not her actions toward her daughter had justified Rogue's own behavior in pushing her off a cliff. It had been a question that had been plaguing her for days now, and she really, really didn't want the answer to it.

Xavier nodded, "I don't doubt that you didn't mean to hurt her. Nevertheless, your plan, whatever it is, backfired. What is going on, Mystique? What are you doing here?"

"Can you see me?" When he shook his head, she continued with, "I want a body, Xavier. And the powers that be, whoever the hell they are, made a deal with me. If I did something for them, they would return my body to me."

Xavier scowled, "And what, exactly, was it you promised in return? Why does it involve Rogue?"

"You aren't going to like my answer."

"I rarely do."

Now she scowled, but she said, "If I get young Gambit and Rogue to fall in love, they'll let me have my body back."

Though he wasn't eating anything, Xavier choked, his face flushing and his eyes rounding, "You promised what, Mystique? Do you really think that by manipulating your daughter's love life, she won't be more inclined toward revenge once you have your body back than ever?"

Feeling defensive, Mystique said, "If they love each other, why would they care how it happened? And besides, I do have a few words to have with my daughter when I get my body back! It's not like she's the perfect daughter, anyway. She pushed me off a cliff!"

"You used her to help release Apocalypse! What did you think she would do?" Xavier demanded. "Mystique, I don't think Rogue is going to appreciate this. Were you the reason that her hormones were off the other day?"

"If she even finds out," Mystique snapped, deliberately ignoring the second question. "How is she ever going to know, anyway? Do you think she'd believe you if you told her? And I have a feeling that these powers-that-be won't take too well to you interfering, old man."

Xavier opened his mouth, then shut it abruptly, his eyes distant. It was obvious he was having a mental conversation, but with who, Mystique didn't know. Whoever they were, they were telling Xavier something he didn't want to hear but was accepting anyway, so Mystique assumed that it was aforementioned powers-that-be informing him that Mystique was right. He sighed, scowled, rubbed his temple, and then focused his glare in Mystique's general direction. He may not be able to see her, but he could tell where her psychic energy was.

"Fine, Mystique. I won't tell Rogue what you are doing. And I won't interfere. But I would like to point out that your actions will not win you any favors in her eyes, no matter what you think. I'd recommend you tread carefully with Rogue, or that cliff will seem a kind comparison to what she will want to do to you," Xavier warned, starting to wheel out of the infirmary. He stopped just at the exit, saying, "When were you planning on informing Wolverine of the nature of his relationship with Rogue?"

"Never."

* * *

Rogue sat on her bed, iPod firmly in ears and a book in hand. It had been a couple days since McCoy had said it was okay for her to leave the infirmary, and Xavier had officially withdrawn her from school until they could determine the source of what was happening to her. Everyone in the Institute seemed to be on edge around her, afraid that she might break at the slightest touch. And frankly, she didn't much blame them. She looked like some sort of twist on an Albino; super pale skin and eyes, though her hair was still as dark as ever, if a little bit longer than it should have been.

It bothered her that she had no idea what was happening to her body. For a person who had very little control of her body to begin with, at least knowing what it was doing gave her some measure of comfort. Now she didn't know, and she felt like an invader trapped in her own skin; it didn't answer to her anymore, so why did her psyche bother staying there?

The situation with Remy, though, confused her the most. She remembered the incident of waking up in his bed, half naked, though nothing had happened. And she had been told that he had stayed by her bedside the entire time she had been in the coma, accounting for the weary, unshaven boy she had see upon waking up. How did she feel about that? She didn't quite know; the fact that he had stayed by her, that he was so worried about her, touched her. No one ever worried about her that much, with maybe the exception of Wolverine and Kurt, although even those two had left her side. Only Remy had stayed, and that knowledge was like a bubble inside her chest, sweet and tender and fizzy. She held it to her chest, her secret bubble of happiness, too afraid that if she let it pop and wash over her, it would dissipate and disappear, along with Remy. Now that she could touch, things were so different.

Grunting, Rogue took off her earphones, turned off her iPod, and set down her book. She was alone in her room, it was Saturday, and the rain was falling was depressing consistency. Kitty was off somewhere, probably teasing Kurt and Piotr as she was wont to do, and the Professor had given strict warnings to any students not to bother Rogue. Wolverine had backed that up with promises of four a.m. Danger Room sessions should anyone disobey the Professor. And while Rogue liked the solitude, something inside of her was restless.

Suddenly, the faint sounds of a guitar reached her ears. Her brow furrowing, Rogue swung her legs over the side of the bed, stood, and cocked her head to the side, trying to determine where the guitar was coming from. It sounded like… it sounded like it was coming from the window! Walking over to the window pane, Rogue looked outside, squinting a little to see through the rain.

"Oh my god…" Her breath came out in a swoosh and her hand came up to her throat as that bubble started to expand within her. Standing outside her second story window, a guitar in hand and completely soaked to the bone, was none other than Remy LeBeau. Rogue's hands slipped in her hurry to open the window, and for once she was grateful that there was no mesh covering there to hinder her head.

Sticking it out a little and getting more than a little wet, Rogue looked down at Remy and said in a voice loud enough for him to hear, "What are you doing, crazy man?"

His grin was devastating to her senses, "Remy be serenading you, _chere_! He wants to make you feel better!"

He stood there, wearing only a pair of jeans and a button down shirt, his feet bare and his long auburn hair plastered to his head, and started to sing. His voice was surprisingly beautiful, a deep, husky bass, and he obviously knew how to play the guitar well. Rogue felt her heart stop, and then speed up rapidly as she realized what he was singing. There, standing in the rain, looking as earnest as ever, Remy sang one of Hoobastank's songs, "Disappear". She listened, transfixed, as he sang, crooned really, the ridiculously romantic words that seemed to wrap themselves around Rogue's heart and tie a string that would never come undone. She didn't care that she was getting just as wet as he was, that her white shirt was now plastered to her own body.

All she cared about was the music. About the meaning behind the words. She didn't even care that this entire situation was so mushy that on any other day it would make her gag; it was happening to _her_ not somebody else. He was singing this song for _her_, and while logically her mind insisted that he was a ne'er-do-well Lothario that would love her and leave her, another part of her, a deeper part of her, gagged and bound that first part and trapped it in a closet.

When he finished, he just stood there, staring up at her. She wanted to move, really she did, but she just found she couldn't. Even though she shivered in the cold and her skin prickled and her hair dripped all over her, she could only stand there and stare.

Rogue was finally urged into action when he smiled. She smiled, laughed, turned and ran all the way down the stairs, through the hallways and past the incredulous looks of the other mutants, and then finally out the door. In a mimic of Remy's own silly running, Rogue slipped as she hit a patch of mud outside. But she soon caught her balance and dashed all the way around the mansion and back to the side where Remy stood. He had set the guitar down and, when he saw her, opened his arms wide.

As she flung herself into them, the only thought her mind was a simple one.

'_I'm home_.'

* * *

**Ahhh, yes, we all love sappy endings, don't we? Well, sappy chapter ending, anyway. Obviously the story isn't over yet! I was just in an exceedingly sappy mood when I wrote this last part, so I hope you folks don't mind! I figured since I put a little drama into this chapter, I should at least give ya'll some sap to work with! But don't expect this all the time – I fluctuate between adoring and despising sap, so depending on my mood, I'll either end a chapter with sap or with humor or, possibly, with drama. **

**About the song, I didn't feel like putting the lyrics in here because that always takes far too long to read. If you want to read the lyrics – and I recommend that, since they are so amazingly romantic! Love that song! – I'd suggest going online and finding them. It really is a good song. **

**Anyway, like I said in my intro, I'm going to be really busy this semester, but I promise to make time to write on this story. Such a release. There will be more humor and more drama, and probably a dash of tragedy/angst thrown in, just because I'm a sucker for angst that ends well. **

**See you guys in the next chapter! Hoped you enjoyed! **

**Midnight Pomegranate**


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